The Chronicles of Dalrus
by Tgreat1
Summary: Dalrus Plaguefang is the second born son of a noble house in Gilneas. This is the tale of how he grew up within the city, trained to become a rogue and eventually become infected by the worgen curse and set out to a life of adventure across the realms of Azeroth, Outland and even Draenor. This is a work in progress. Please alert me of errors and suggestions. I am open for critics
1. Chapter 1 - The shadow on the horizon

_**The chronicles of Dalrus Plaguefang**_

 _ **Prologue - The shadow is born.**_

The city of Gilneas, surrounded as it was by the construction material of the soon to be started 'Greymane Wall', looked almost like a newly formed ruin amidts the raging storm. The tidy streets and alleys looked as if they were alive as the flowing water poured down the roads, only to vanish within the sewer entrances.

The Plaguefang estate was rather close to said wall - the result of king Greymane's reluctance in remaining part of the Alliance after the end of the Second War - and, as a result, each time the lightning crackled outside, the pipes and foundations cast long shadows like tendrils in the night. The rain fell upon the glass windows like bullets, and all covers had been closed, therefore, the only sound that could be heard was the howling of the wind, the help dashing from one room to another and the pained screams of a woman in labour.

"Breathe deeply, Dallys. Come now, this is not our first time." Said the master of the manor, Lord Kalthuz Plaguefang the Second. He was a very tall and broad man, with his moderately long hair stuck in a braid behind his head and a thick, yet short beard covering most of his jaw. His upper lip was completely covered by a very thick mustache, and despite the cold wind chilling the entire manor, the man was clearly sweating behind his gentle smile. His brows were high arched on his forehead, and every now and then he would launch worried glances at the priest on the other side of the bed. The man was old and wrinkly, his brows and mustache already a deep gray. One hand was gripping with surprising vigor at a long white staff, the other was upon Lady Dally's Plaguefang's exposed engorged belly, a soft light emmanating from underneath and providing most of the room's illumination.

"Father?" Came the low, frightened voice of a child from the doorway. Kalthuz didn't need to turn to know his son had been watching them the whole time. He could have given the order to take young Felruz to his room, but Dallys had decided against it. "Let him stay... He has the right to watch his little brother enter this world." Had been her words, soon before the struggle began.

And now, there she was, her face twisted in agony and her eyes snapped shut. The bed she and her husband had laid upon together so many nights was now an absolute mess, soaked from the many wet towels that had been applied to her as well as from her own sweat. Lord Kalthuz remembered how Felrus' own birth hadn't been a much prettier sight, but by now even he was growing worried. The fact the priest looked so deep in concentration without showing any hint of easing up only made him worry further. Still, he refused to give in to his emotions. Taking a deep breath, he looked over his shoulder and nodded at his son. "Felrus, it's getting late. You don't need to stay until the end if you don't want to. This is a sight no man should bear witness to, I grant you that much!" He tried to launch a reassuring smile towards the boy, but it ended up coming out as a worried scowl instead.

Shaking his head vigorously, the boy stepped inside the room with a determined look. "No! I want to stay... Mother said I could. Can I... Can I help? Is there anything I can do?"

Kalthuz hesitated for a moment, then he exhaled a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding. This time he managed to muster a genuine smile, taking warmth in how well his heir was taking this whole situation in, and said: "It's fine, son. Simply be by her side. Your presence alone will give her strength... Isn't that right, my love?" He said, once more turning to face his wife. Dallys half opened on eye, and meekly nodded at her son before her back arched and she let out a sharp shriek of pain. This made Kalthuz forget for a moment there was a child in the room as he turned his gaze towards the priest. "Blast it, man! Can you do nothing for her pain!? I've seen maimed orcs agonizing less on their death beds!"

It took longer than Kalthuz liked for the priest to reply, but when he did, his expression remained the exact same. "The child is in danger. I am doing what I can to save him. I can't focus on that and your wife's pain at the same time." And with that, he resumed his stoic stare into the woman's womb as his palm shone on over her.

Kalthuz felt as if the floor had given way under him. "Speak to me, damn you! What is wrong? Will he survive? Will she!?" He shot a desperate glance towards Dallys, who in turn half opened one eye to look up at her husband.

"Kalthuz... My love..." She whispered amongst pained moans. "If you must choose between me and our child... Save him. I beg you..." Her words were cut off by another howl of pain, and the priest's expression grew more stern. His eyes then moved to Felrus, then towards Lord Kalthuz who continued to hold his wife's hand as if it were his life line on a boat. "You should remove the boy. This will be painfull to see." His words were practically a grunt, and sweat could be seen darting through his wrinkly brows. To that, Kalthuz shook his head vigorously. "No, he stays. He has the right... And my son is not weak. Neither of them." Upon those last words, his eyes shifted to her belly, where the warm glow of the healing Light almost made the baby underneath visible through her thick skin. Then, suddenly, Lady Dallys let out a sharper shriek than any before and pushed her back against the pillow pile behind her, her legs spreading as far as she could push them behind the blanket that offered her some modesty. Kalthuz didn't even need the priest to say 'He comes' to know what was happening.

The Light shone on even brighter than before, so much it cast deep shadows at everyone present in the room. The storm picked up outside, and at times it was difficult to make out whose noise it was; the howling wind, the striking thunder, or Lady Dallys' pained labour screams.

"Come on... You are a Plaguefang. FIght, young one..." Kalthuz found himself whispering, his son standing next to him with wide eyes and a hand over his mother's as his father almost possessively held her with both of his own. After what felt like an eternity, the Light from under the priest's palm suddenly gave out, and the only light in the room came from the dim candles around them. Absolute silence... Even Lady Dallys herself had stopped screaming. Until...

The sharp, high pitched shriek of a newborn baby echoed through the halls of the Plaguefang manor.

With an exhausted sigh, the priest enveloped his robes around the bloody newborn and hoisted him up in his arm, his staff now serving the purpose of a walking stick as he stood up. "It is a healthy boy." He proudly announced. "I managed to purge his weakness... But I'm afraid the burden on the mother was heavy." Finally, he seemed to show some emotion as his gaze shifted towards Lady Dally's exhausted face, her long red hair disheveled and spread in all directions on the pillows around her head. Meekly, the woman lifted a hand as if reaching out for the boy. "Let me see him... My... Son..." Her voice was barely a whisper, and thick, dark bags could be seen under her eyes.

Lord Kalthuz and his son both stood motionless as the priest handed the baby to his mother, the woman immediately pulling him towards her chest and nuzzling his cheek tenderly with her nose. "My baby... I am so glad... Thank the Light for this miracle..." She whispers, her voice weak and fragile, yet so full of joy it brought tears to Kalthuz' eyes. "Yes..." He says, slowly leaning up besides her on the bed and gently wrapping his arm over and around her shoulder, his other hand reaching out for his newborn son's face and tenderly rubbing his soft cheek with his fingertip. "A healthy boy... Look, Felrus. This is your brother..." A bright smile was stretching his tired features, and tears really did stream from the corners of his eyes now.

"He is... So small." Was all the boy could think of saying as he tried to peek over his father's arm to get a glimpse of his baby brother. He then turned to look at his mother, his tiny brows furrowing highly in deep worry. "Mother... Are you alright? You should rest!"

Barely listening to her own child, Dallys simply continued to hug her son as his cries slowly died down and became moans and soft yelps as the confused child blinked at his family. "He is so handsome... I bet he will grow up to be just like you... Again." Dallys let out a soft chuckle, then turned her face to her husband, who was biting on his lower lip to stop it from trembling. "Yes, my love. But now the question... What shall we name him?" Before that question, Dallys once more lowered her gaze towards her baby and smiled warmly at him as she watched him stretch his tiny arms outwards, his minuscle hands curled into fists and rubbing at rubbing at his head. "As Felrus was named for your grandfather... So shall this boy be named after mine. "She planted a loving kiss upon his forehead. "He is... Dalrus of the House Plaguefang."

With a curt nod of his head, Kalthus reached out with his finger once more, and felt his heart skip a beat as Dalrus grabbed it, squeezing with all his baby strength. "Yes... A fine name. Look, Felrus. Do you know what this means?" He then wrapped his other hand around his older son's waist and hoisted him up onto his thight, allowing him to take a closer look at his brother. "You are the elder son, Felrus. That means you are the heir. But Dalrus here... He is to be your shadow. Your blade in the dark. Whatever you need in this world, you may count on this boy to help you. You two shall become inseparable, with a bond stronger than blood itself, as I had with my brother before you. Be proud, son. Today... We continue the legacy of our house!" Kalthuz would have continued with his little speech, but he was interrupted by a loud cough from the priest. "This is the limit. The mother needs her rest."

Kalthuz hesitated, as did Dallys, but ultimately he nodded. "Yes, you are right. Worry not, my love... Our child shall be safe and healthy as you rest. Now recover your strength... For your sake, mine, and our son's."

It looked as if the woman was ready to argue about the matter, but suddenly her eyes fluttered close and she collapsed against the bed, her son falling against Kalthuz' arm. "Dallys? Dallys!? My love!?" The man almost screamed, his eyes going wide with shock. Then he felt the priest's soft hand patting him on the arm. "She is exhausted. Only her motherly instict had her awake this long. Leave her now, she needs her rest. As does the boy." Kalthuz opened his mouth to protest, but then he felt Felrus tugging on his shirt. "Father, I think we should listen to him. Mother looks tired." His gaze darting between his son, the priest, and his unconscious wife, Kalthuz finally sighed heavily and nodded. "Very well. Felrus, go give word that Dalrus is coming. I will bring him to his room in a moment. " With a quick nod, the boy rushed out of the room. Wrapping some cloth around the baby, Kalthuz stood up and craddled the boy against his chest as he faced the priest. "And... My wife?" He finally said, his voice almost giving out for a moment.

The priest stood silent for a long moment, his face looking even older and more sinister under the flickering candle light. "I did what was within my reach." He said once more. "I had to focus most of my efforts on the baby. I believe she will live... But the price she paid was great. On any other case, it would have to be a choice between the baby and the mother. But, as for her..." He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I'm afraid she will spend the rest of her days on this bed, or a chair. Her body may never fully recover. By her own will, much of her life force was transferred to the child. There is a limit to what even the Light can do."

Kalthuz' shoulders slumped over, his eyes wide with despair. "Curse you, priest! I've seen this damned Light stop boulders the size of this house, reattach limbs and even raise the dead! Don't give me this nonsense! There must be some way she can walk and carry her own son again!"

Despite the harsh words, the man did not look in the least offended or preoccupied. "The Light is not a tool to be used at will. It has a will of It's own. It was only because of her own ardent desire to save her child that It aided me as much as it did. You should be glad the Light chose to save her as it did, rather than cursing it for better results." And with that, the priest turned away and slowly began to make his way towards the door. On the doorway, he stopped and turned his head over his shoulder to look at Dally's unconscious face. "Do not underestimate her effort today. The sacrifice she made as a mother would make any proud of her love." And with that, the priest left the room, and not much later, the manor, his cowl doing it's best to protect him from the rain and the howling winds.

Kalthuz himself did not linger too long in the room - he only spared a moment to kiss his wife on the lips, and whisper: "You will make it, Dallys. I know it." Then, he brought his son to his new room, where a milk maid and two butlers were already waiting to help care for him until his mother woke up. Felrus was allowed to watch his brother for a few more minutes before his father sent him to bed, and soon Lord Kalthuz himself was laying wide awake on one of their guest rooms - the maids had told him it was best for Lady Dallys to be on her own for the time being, as any other presence could disturb her rest.

His eyes were very open, staring at the dark ceiling above. The curtains did very little to hide the powerful lightning bolts falling down around the house, their light illuminating the entire room. ' _Blast'._ He thought bitterly. _'To have survived two wars, only to succumb to something such as this... Be strong, my love. Do not give in.'_

Hours later, exhaustion took over, and Lord Kalthuz Plaguefang fell asleep. One floor below, his newborn son, Dalrus Plaguefang, had also fallen into a deep slumber, his face laying on it's side over his pillow, not in the least troubled by the raging storm outside. The boy who would grow to become the shadow, the blade in the dark of House Plaguefang.

 _ **Chapter 1 - The Shadow on the horizon**_

"Concentrate, Dalrus. It's not about vanishing from sight. It's about making them think they see what they want to see!"

"Aham."

It was a warm summer day in Gilneas. Dalrus was under the plain sunlight, clad in a simple black shirt and loose green trousers, with sandals completing his attire. The backyard of the Plaguefang estate was directly facing the Wall of Graymane, so it made for the perfect spot for secret rogue stealth training. Dalrus was now ten years old, his short, thick black hair already going past and covering his ears. His eyes were a deep, striking blue that elicited many compliments from polite ladies and the occasional gentleman. His nose was clearly growing to be as big and thick as his father's, and his young body already displayed a well defined tone of growing muscle. He scratched his chin distractedly, his eyes shifting up to the barely visible patch of blue sky in between his manor's ceiling and the imposing wall behind him. His instructor was a somewhat short and lanky man by the name of Silvius Moonbite, and he had a long crooked nose Dalrus just could not help but stare every single time they met for ther training sessions. He also could not understand how the man could be wearing that dark leather armor over his clothes, and on top of that, a cloak with a long black cowl, from under which his sharp eyes could be seen glaring at him. "Are you listening to me, boy!?"

With a bored sigh, Dalrus shifted his gaze back at the man who wasn't that much taller than him. "Loud and clear, lord sir mister professor Silvius, sir! We must play the enemy for fools, I see!"

The rogue scowled at Dalrus, then within a moment, he had vanished from sight and Dalrus was seeing the world upside down. Before he knew it, the boy was laying on his back on the floor, and Silvius was squatting down besides him, a scornful smile stretching his thin lips. "The only sharp thing a rogue needs is his blade, boy. A tongue like that will most likely get you killed."

Dalrus huffed, then jumped up on his feet. "Yeah, whatever. It's not like they will ever see me coming, right?" He wiped the grass off his shirt and shook his arms. This was pretty much routine for them by now. Dalrus was always provoking the man on purpose, coaxing him to do exactly what he had just done. The 'shadowstep' - as Silvius had called it the first time Dalrus had attempted to skip on his training - was but one of the weapons in a rogue's arsenal. Dalrus had been told that, in time, he would be able to bend the shadows around him like a cloak, allowing him to run at great speeds, jump amazing lengths, even protect himself from harm and vanishing from sight. Furthermore, he would learn how to do the same for his weapons, turning already deadly tools into unstoppable deathbringers.

He could even remember 'the talk' his father had had with him the day he turned five years old. Felrus, his four years older brother had been there as well. Both boys were sitting on the couch, facing their father who paced back and forth in his study.

"Dalrus, today you turn five. It is a very important date in our family. Today marks the day you begin your studies, and most importantly, your training, as your brother did before you." Before those words, Felrus only nodded solemnly. He and Dalrus looked a lot alike, the difference being his hair was red as their mother's, and his facial features were more angular, more... Beautiful, whereas it seemed Dalrus would grow to develop his father's rugged looks.

"Oh... Yeah?" Was all the boy could think of saying as he tried not to fall back to sleep on his seat - his father had woken him and his brother very early in the morning, before most of the staff did, even. "It's my birthday? Where's my present?"

Ignoring his son's words, Kalthuz continued to pace restlessly. "You must understand, Dalrus. Our house has only one heir. The elder son is the one to inherit the duties of our legacy. Felrus." And with that, he stopped before the red haired boy, who had already perked up in attention. "Where does our name come from?"

Without missing a beat, he begins to speak: "In ancient times, the Fang was known as the head of the house, and the 'Plague' was an unwanted second son who could never inherit the title of the main branch. One day, during a great peril, the Fang had his life saved by the lesser 'Plague', and since then it was decided that no longer the second son would be a pariah, but rather he would become the shadow of the heir, his blade in the dark and his protector. The house's name was then changed to show that they stood in equal importance within their lineage."

With a nod, Kalthuz says: "Very good. You have been dilligent with your studies. That was very well summerized. Do you understand, Dalrus? Your brother is the Fang, and you are the Plague... The Shadow. The blade in the dark. You two must work together to bring our house and our land prosperity. Do you understand?"

Dalrus, who had by then fallen asleep, suddenly lifted his head and stared at his father with wide eyes. "Yes! Yes! So, where are my presents?"

Once again ignoring his son, Kalthuz nods and waves towards the wall behind him. Where once stood just a plain old rug and a beautifully carved pillar, now suddenly stood the lanky, dark figure of Silvius Moonbite. "Dalrus, meet your teacher. In the past, SIlvius served in the SI:7, the Stormwind's intelligence and espionage division. He is very skilled and wise, and you will learn the subtle arts of roguery with him."

The boy could only blink in confusion. "So... Is this old guy my present?"

And here they were, five years later. Ah, how time flew...

"... wrist! You need to angle your wrist right, boy! Pay attention!" The man hissed, smacking Dalrus out of his daydreaming on the back of his head. "Like it or not, this is what you're doing! So you might as well learn to enjoy it or tolerate in a way that doesn't make me waste my time here!"

Dalrus, who had absent-mindedly began to practice throwing knives, rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah, I got it already. Look, we've done this hundreds of times. You've seen me hit the center. Why do we need to do it again?" He says, casually tossing the dagger up in the air and grabbing the blade between two of his fingers on it's way down.

"Because." The old rogue hissed, one hand on his hip as with the other he jabbed a finger at the boy's chest. "This needs to become something you can do without thinking. You hit the center while focusing and calculating many trajectories, but that's not good enough. You think you'll have time to stop and think in a battlefiled with axes swinging left and right over your empty head? You need to practice this a million times more, until you can do it without the need to focus every brain cell you have. And Light knows you already put them to plenty of work."

With a tired sigh, the rogue-in-training turned to face the targets - dummies placed against the wall, about twenty feet away from the two. "Whatever, this isn't fun. It's just boring and repetitive." He says, hurling the knife. It crossed the distance in a flash and hit two rings away from the center of the target's chest.

"It's not supposed to be fun, boy. It's supposed to help keep you and your brother alive. Or would you rather see him dead because of your incompetence?"

This actually caused Dalrus to perk up, and his next dagger buried itself hilt-deep between the dummy's button eyes. "Don't be stupid, old man. As if anything could ever kill Felrus. Even dad says in a few years, he'll be the one to come out on top on sparring."

While Dalrus had been training on how to sneak around unseen, lodge daggers between ribcages ten paces away and concoct poisons, Felrus had been training just as hard on swordplay. Every day he would wake up even earlier than his younger brother, wash himself, break his fast and get ready for morning training. It began with one hour of horse riding, followed by intense exercises for his arms and legs, and only after that would he actually grab the practice sword and fence against his trainer. He would only stop briefly to have lunch, then go right back to his practice before going to his room to study with his tutor. That part was supposed to be shared by the two boys, but very often Dalrus simply skipped his lessons to go loiter in the city, or, like most recently, climb up to the edge of the wall and watch the horizon.

Silvious snickered at those words. "Aye, maybe one day he'll be a warrior to be feared. But let me tell you something, boy, and pay very attention to me when I say this." And with that, Dalrus felt that small - yet incredibly firm and strong - hand pressed against the back of his head and pulling his face so close to Silvius' their noses were almost touching. "Doesn't matter how mighty a warrior, how powerful a mage, how skilled a hunter you are..." And then he felt a cold, sharp sting poking at his side. He didn't need to look down to know what it was. "Slipping a knife between your ribs while you sleep ends even the mightiest of legends. And you will find that three grains the size of a pinhead of my poisons mixed in your salt jar could kill you and your entire family in one big happy dinner occasion." And suddenly he was released again, Dalrus taking a few steps back and watching the man warily. "Surely enough, in 'honorable' combat, some people are nigh unbeatable. But there are plenty people in this world who don't face the enemy from the front. People just waiting for you to show your back so we can sink a dagger into it. That, boy-" And here he pointed the curved, silver tip of his dagger at Dalrus. "- is the kind of enemy you will have to face. People who took this training much more seriously than you did. People who are natural born killers and assassins. People who take lives as easily as you take bites off your food. People whom your brother would never see coming in a sunny empty field in the middle of summer. Do I make myself clear, or did I just waste my time trying to make a point again?"

Dalrus went silent, his gaze shifting to the ground as one of his hands curled into a fist, the other one going to rub his side... And he was surprised to feel somthing wet there. Looking down, there was a big stain on his shirt, and looking up, he saw that SIlvius' other dagger had been drawn as well, blood - his blood - dripping from it. "What... You-" Suddenly his world began to go dark. His legs gave out, and he collapsed on his side, his arms and legs going numb. "You... Stabbed... Me..." Were the groggy words to come out of his mouth as his sight became hazy. He could only see Silvius' boots as the rogue approached the fallen boy, his head hoisted up and craddled against his arm. His lips were forced open, and he felt something very bitter flowing down his throat. He coughed violently and shook his head, trying to wake himself. "BLEGH! THIS TASTES AWFUL!"

Silvius had a very amused expression on his face. "See, it wasn't even a deep cut. All I did was slide the tip in. And the poison was already enough to paralyze your entire body. But I see you're already strong enough to complain." And with that, Dalrus' head fell against the grass, his body slowly tingling back to life. Grunting, the boy sat up on the floor, trying to focus his thoughts. "Did you really need to stab and poison me to make a point, old man?"

To that, Silvius' smile only spread even farther. "No. But you had it coming, brat. Now get up. You're going to practice throwing those daggers while half-poisoned now. And if I hear you complain, or see you slacking off again... I have some good stuff here. This one paralyzed you. The other one can swell your tongue so much you wont even have time to beg me to stop before you choke to death."

Hours later, Dalrus still felt sore and groggy from the poison. Silvius had told him the antidote was enough to completely shake off it's effects after a few hours, but he bet the old man had lied about that too. 'Deception is also one of our tools. And learning how to see through it is one thing no one can teach you. Figure it on your own, boy.'

The Plaguefang estate was right against the corner of Gilneas. Not too far from it were more noble houses, but theirs was by far the most 'out-of-the-way'. There was one road leading to the town center, and it was that that Dalrus now followed, his practice dagger spinning around his fingers casually as he walked. He pondered what he should do help him relax some. Normally he would try and climb the wall, but given how his feet still tingled, he didn't want to risk them giving out halfway up. So maybe walk around the town center, try and look for something new for once? Not that many things ever got through the Wall of Greymane, save for the birds. His father had told him the wall was a necessary thing, a protection against the many evils outside. Dalrus had been told that soon before he was born, there had been a terrible war against demons and green-skinned creatures called 'orcs'. The war had been very taxing, so much the kingdom of Stormwind fell, the king was murdered and many people died. Old man Greymane had decided Gilneas would have none of it, so he built a huge wall to seal them off from the rest of the world. Not everyone was happy with the decision, however. Darius Crowley, one of the noble men living just outside the range of the wall when it had been decided, was the loudest voice against it. The man made some good arguments, but frankly, Dalrus saw no point to fighting a battle that wasn't his own. Better to lock themselves out of all that conflict and leave a peaceful life here than letting the war ravage his home.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the high pitched and screams of children fighting. Curious, he got closer to it's source, and found a girl surrounded by three boys who were all busy tossing her doll around and over her head. They were all teasing her, some going so far as to call her 'traitor' every now and then.

"Look here, you want this back?" One of the boys said, shaking the doll right in front of her face. "Why don't you go call yer' dad? Maybe hurting the child o' one of the nobles will be enough to see the basterd behind bars, at last!" Before the girl could grab it back, the doll was tossed to another one. "Oy, look here! She's just mad she was locked out o' the wall! Is it true you people live on tree tops like apes?" The doll was tossed once more. "Aye, and that traitor dad o' yours is the ape king! Hahahah!" This time, however, the boy had no time to act as the girl suddenly tackled him down and began throwing punches at his face. "DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY FATHER YOU DAMN BUGGERS!" She screamed, her tiny fists raining down on the bully. "OY! GET THIS CRAZY BIRD OFFA ME!" He shouted back, and before long the two boys were holding her by her arms. Wiping his bloody nose on the back of his sleeve, the boy turned at her, his face red with anger. "Ye damn crazy wench! Me pa' told me not to hit a girl, but he never said anythin' about hittin' the daughter of a traitor!" Even as the boy stepped forward, his hand already curled into a fist, the girl would still scream: "My father is no traitor! Greymane is crazy to lock us out like this! He just wants us all to be free!"

Deciding that he had seen enough, Dalrus decided to act, with a swift, deft motion, he flicked the dagger towards one of the boys. It spinned exactly three times before the hilt hit him right on the temple, causing his to lose his grip and letting the girl duck out of the angry boy's punch, which in turn hit his friend right on the face. Taking the opportunity, the girl stepped down on her captor's foot, before stepping forward and kicking the confused boy with all her might right between his legs. The boy didn't even have the strength to scream as he fell down, cluthing his trousers and whimpering sadly. Her eyes shot even more daggers that Dalrus as she glared at the other two boys, who, crying and muttering profanities at the girl, grabbed their friend and ran away. Once they were gone, Dalrus let out a loud whistle of appreciation and stepped into her view. "Nice work, love. Though I think that finisher was a bit of an overkill, eh? The boy won't be walking straight for a week."

The girl looked at him, her expression changing immediately. "Well. It's his own fault. There are no rules in a street fight. And I'm no girl to simply lay down and take it, that's for sure. But... Thanks for the help." She wiped the dust of her dress, and stood up straight. Her hair was long and black, with elegant curly ends. She had strong eyes, unlike most girls Dalrus had met before, and showed a fierce determination behind them. "Name's Lorna. Lorna Crowley. And... Yes. My father is Darius Crowley."

To that, Dalrus offered as gallant a smile as a ten year old could muster. "I'm Dalrus, of house Plaguefang. So your father is the guy stirring up all that ruckys at old Greymane's doorstep, eh? I should thank you for that, things are always more interesting with a riot or two going on. So what are you doing here, all alone, Lorna?" With a deft motion of his foot, he kicked her doll up in the air, then, with a quick wave of his hand, he grabbed it and held it before her.

The girl hesitated, then picked her doll up and slapped the dust off it with the back of her hand. "Well... My father is having a reunion with king Greymane. He said I should come with him to see what it's like... In here. I was supposed to meet with his son, Lyam, but... W-well, that is, ah..."

"You're lost." He said, his lips parting in a wide, mischievous smile.

"Well... Yes." She conceded, managing to still look a little grumpy despite her clear embarrassment.

"If that's the case, I could show you around. Little Greymane is always darting around his dad's place, but every now and then he graces us mortals with his royal presence down by the town market. If our good king is busy with your father, I'd bet that's where he is right now. And lucky you, that's exactly where I'm headed!" Shooting the girl a playful wink, he pocketed his practice dagger and made an overly exxagerated motion towards the road he had been following. "Care for an escort, milady?"

With a roll of her eyes, she elbowed him on the ribs and began to walk down the road. "You coming?" She said, looking back over her shoulder.

As the duo strolled down the road, Dalrus once again pulled out his dagger and began to toss it up and down, sometimes catching it by the blade, others by the pommel, but almost never by the handle. Noticing that, Lorna said: "So what are you, some kind of assassin? You almost gouged that boy's eye off. Not that I'm complaining, an eyepatch would probably improve his looks."

Holding back a chuckle, he responded: "Well, I've been training to be a rogue for a while now. It comes in with handy tricks. But that aside... What's the deal with your father? Is the wall really worth all this ruckus? I would think Crowley would be glad to be rid of Gilneas' ugly mug."

Lorna's expression grew somber for a moment. "The wall... It cut right through some of our lands. Communication between Pyrewood Village and Ambermill are all but cut out. People are afraid. And on top of that... My father is against us leaving the alliance. He said Gilneas should have taken a bigger role on the war. Not to mention this talk about a plague spreading through the north of Lordaeron."

He looked at her with curious interest at that last remark. "Well then, aren't we lucky we got nothing more to do with Lordaeron anymore. I'd think if nothing more, this big wall should keep us safe from disease. If you ask me, you should find a way to stay around here while your dad fights the fight outside. Much safer when you're surrounded by thick stone bricks on all sides."

"Well, yes... But what of the rest of the Eastern Kingdoms? What if the orcs come back? What if a new threat comes? Should we just sit idle and do nothing while innocents suffer and... Die?" Her eyebrows were highly arched on her forehead, as if she were asking that to herself as well as him.

Dalrus took a long moment before he gave his reply. "People die every day, love. We all gotta go sometime. In here, at least, I know I'll be at the bottom of that list for a long time. People have their limits, too. We did our part, but now, I'd say it's about bloody time they left us alone. We already bled as much as anyone else for this 'kingdom'. If you ask me, those people over at Stormwind are just looking for an excuse to come up with a monarch to give orders to everyone else. Greymane just decided he wouldn't lower his head like a hound."

Lorna went silent before those words. "My father says I couldn't imagine what war is like. So I don't know what the pain of true loss is like. There are a lot of people like you who cheer for the wall and would rather spend the rest of their days behind it... And people like my father, who think this is a mistake and it will only lead to disaster. I just don't know what to think... But I do know that if things don't calm down between them, it's gonna get bloody..."

The boy went silent, thinking about those words. "Hopefully it won't come to that. But if it does... Well. We all make our choices. But enough of the grim talk, we're here."

They had arrived at the town center. Gilneas' buildings were enormous, many of them several stories tall with many people living inside. The city square sported many kiosks with people showing their wares, with adults passing back and forth as children dashed and played by the side walks. Armored guards could be seen on every corner, keeping a watchful gaze for any kind of 'misbehaving', and every now and then cavalry would trottle down the street as they performed their patrols. There was a small crowd gathering around one of the back alleys, and they could hear someone screaming at the top of their lungs. "What do you suppose is going on over there?" Dalrus said, his head leaning towards that direction. "I don't know, let's go take a closer look!" Lorna replied, then immediately darted off towards the commotion. Letting out a sigh, Dalrus soon followed, although he too was curious about it.

"...from his grave! With my very own eyes, I saw it! His skin was rotting, carrion was still darting under his flesh, and he was missing one eye! Despite that, with the Light as my witness I swear it, he looked straight at me and dashed forward! If I didn't have me shovel with me, why I'd be joining the dead along with him, that's for sure!" The man speaking was standing on top of a box so the people could hear him. His eyes were very wide, his clothes, ragged, his teeth were yellow, his nails covered in dirt and his long beard was clearly untrimmed for days. "My cousin who had died years past in the war, whom I thought I'd never see again, he tried to bring me to the afterlife with him!"

Poking one large man in front of him on the side, Dalrus inquired: "Excuse me, sir. What's this about?" He nodded towards the man, who continued to describe how his cousin was desperate for companionship in the grave.

"Crazy old bloke talkin' about dead people risin' and attackin' the livin'." He says, taking a moment to look down at the boy. "'Parently he was off to Andorhal while the Wall was being built, working to afford a new house in here. Then yesterday he comes back, lookin' like a drunk bum who's been out on the street too long, spewin' this nonsense. I hope the guards come do something about him soon..." Almost as if on cue, they hear loud hooves stomping on the pavement behind them. Turning around, Dalrus saw no one less than his majesty King Genn Greymane himself. Besides him was a man who could only be Darius Crowley, and Dalrus instantly understood how someone who was clearly opposing their king could have so many people on their side. An eyepatch covered his right eye, and his long hair was a beautiful shade of auburn. His fate had a hardened, determined expression, the look of someone who had been through hard times and knew what had to be done. A very clearly dissatisfied man who could be no one other than Lord Godfrey - one of the nobles who accompanied Greymane like a hound waiting for scraps - was leading a trio of knights behind them.

Accompanying the king was also a small entourage of nobles, amongst which, Dalrus was surprised to see, his own father, with Felrus riding his own steed just besides him. Apparently, they hadn't noticed him yet.

Stopping slightly ahead of the group, Greymane's horse shook his head a little before his rider said: "That's enough. I won't be having any more of this mad talk in my city. Guards, take this man somewhere to calm him down." Godfrey then waved to the knights. "You heard the man. Go on, take this scoundrel to the slammer so he can cool his head for a bit!"

Upon hearing that, the shouting man suddenly widened his eyes and threw himself at the crowd, which quickly parted and made way for him to approach the king's horse. "Youre majesty, my king Greymane! You must listen to me! The dead, they are rising from their graves! They will come for us, I tell you! We must make ready! We must do something! We must...!" But before another word could be utterted, Godfrey had pulled his sword out of his sheath and slammed the flat side against the man's head. He fell unconscious to the floor, and was soon picked up by the soldiers and carried off as the crowd muttered and gossiped about the events as they happened. "Bloody lunatic. That's what we get for letting outsiders in. Who let this intruder inside our city!?" Lord Godfrey looked around at the present guards, who were busy looking around at each other as if looking for someone to put the blame on. Suddenly, a youth stepped forward, saying: "I did! The man was Gilnean. He was only outside for a few years doing work!"

"Lyam!" Came the angry voice of king Greymane. "I told you not to meddle in these affairs. Look at what's happened because of it!"

"But father..." The boy began to speak, but was quickly silenced by his father's glare. "Yes, father... I am sorry."

"So you would deny a Gilnean the warm embrace of his own home just because he was at the wrong place when you began building this cage, Genn?" Darius Crowley's voice was not elevated, nor was it angry, not even demanding, but there was something behind that stern calmness that had everyone in the crowd immediately go silent so as to let him speak. "Lyam did nothing wrong. The man is clearly exhausted from his journey. Or are you saying not even Gilneans should be allowed passage over this wall of yours?"

"You dare speak against your king like this!? Such impertinence! We could arrest you for treason right now, Crowley!" Lord Godfrey almost shouted those words, his still drawn sword raising and aiming it's tip at the man's chest as he spoke.

"Be quiet, Godfrey! And you, Crowley..." Genn Greymane turned his horse to face the man, who, unblinking, returned the gaze with his one good eye. "I will not have you challenge me within my own walls like this. We have already finished our discussions. I offered to acompany you to the exit, but not for this. Now where's your daughter? You said she'd be with Lyam, but there he is... And no sign of her."

An amused smile stretched the corners of Darius Crowley's mouth as his eye suddenly stared straight at Dalrus, then at Lorna by his side. "Well, so she told me. But it appears while your son was busy, she's already found other company. Lorna, come. We are leaving."

Dalrus saw the girl hesitate for a moment, then she turned her head to face him and whispered. "Farewell... And thank you." And with that, she picked up her dress and quickly dashed to where her father was, where she was picked up and placed onto the saddle behind him. "We are leaving, Genn... But don't forget what we have discussed. This matter is not over yet. My people grow restless, as do I. I pray you will come to your senses soon, old friend." And with that, he tugged on his horse's reins, and it began to trot down the street. "I already know the way out from here. Farewell."

"Give the word, Genn." Vincent Godfrey whispered, his eyes stuck to the back of Crowley's head. "Within moments we can bring him down, have him in chains and make an example of this traitor!" Greymane, however, simply shook his head, then let out a loud sigh. "No, let him leave. At least for now, we shall use nothing but words. But I worry it may come to worse... Ready the men. Fortify the gates. And I want to know who let my son unsupervised as he decided who could and could not enter my city!"

Having finally taken notice of his own son, Lord Kalthuz took advantage of his king cursing the soldiers to get off his horse - an act Felrus mimicked - and make his way towards Dalrus, who now had his hands on his pockets. "Dalrus, what are you doing here, boy? Shouldn't you be at your studies?"

"Yeah. But I was bored, so I decided to go for a walk first. On my way, I found little lady Lorna. Nice girl. She was having a disagreement with a few apes, so I went and offered some convincing arguments of my own. After which she voiced her vital need to come to the city center and meet with our noble prince. Being the virtuous lad I am, I immediately forsook all my wordly needs and desires to offer her my aid. The rest you already know."

His father launched him a rather unimpressed look. "How noble of you. To forsake your duties so you could loiter around the city with a girl. Well, I have good news. Your brother and I are done, so you're coming home with us. Go wait with your brother as I excuse myself from the king." And with that, the brothers were left alone as their father approached the king and waited for an opportunity to speak up as Godfrey circled them like a jackal.

"So, what do you think? Dead rising of their graves?" Dalrus said as soon as the noise of the King's angry shouts were louder than their whispers. "That's a tall tale, if I ever heard one. How would that even work? I mean, how do you move without muscle strength or brain functions?"

Felrus simply lifted a brow at that. The boy was fourteen already, and was right in the middle of his growth spurt. HIs muscles were starting to bulge out of his shirt, and a few stray wires were visibly poking out of his chin. "Father said he's seen some pretty odd things in the war. Magic can do some very scary things. I even heard about an orcish warlock raising Death Knights. But I doubt someone would go so far as to try that on a farmer in Andorhall. Man must be a maddened veteran. Some people have a hard time dealing with the losses of war."

"Yeah, well." Dalrus then let out a loud yawn and scratched behind his ear. "Why would anyone meddle with that anyway? I mean, what's to gain from it? I don't see much profit in raising the dead to do your bidding. I bet the stench would be the deadliest thing. So anyway, what were you talking about? I doubt Crowley came just for tea and biscuits."

Hesitating for a moment, Felrus launched a side glance at the king and his father, who were now both glaring at Godfrey as he ranted on about how traitors should be publicly executed. "The thing is... Two cities got completely cut off ever since the wall was finished. A lot of people were unhappy about this... Especially because we are basically no longer a part of the Alliance. Father supports Crowley, saying it's our duty to help the kingdoms fight for our survival as a whole. And a lot of people agrees with him as well. Then there's Godfrey, saying Gilneas shouldn't partake in a war that's got nothing to do with us, and continue to isolate ourselves. Then something about rotten grains coming in from Lordaeron, which caused us to no longer trade with them, thus cutting ourselves off completely. People are getting anxious, but the king wants to solve things peacefully. Still, it looks like if another conflict were to rise... Gilneas is staying out of it."

"Well, good riddance, if you ask me. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not die an early death for my nation. I'd much rather support the economy by staying alive and buying the bread of every day." Before Felrus could answer, their father came back and let out a loud sigh of exhasperation. "Hungry hounds, the whole lot of them. They want nothing more than to be on the king's good graces and live an easy life... And they would throw us to the wolves to get that. Pah! Come, we are leaving." And with that, the trio began riding back together, with Dalrus sharing a horse with his brother. On their way back, Dalrus suddenly said: "Hey, father? What's your relationship with Crowley?"

Looking surprised over his back, Lord Kalthuz raised a brow at his son. "Where's this coming from?" He inquired, launching a suspicious look at Felrus.

"I'm just curious. His daughter seems nice, so I figured the apple wouldn't fall too far off the tree." Was his reply, the boy trying to sound casual as if he were asking out of idle curiosity. "But I heard a certain individual of prestige launching not so nice words at him somewhere today. Can't quite remember who or where."

A soft snicker escaped Dalrus' father, then he slowed down his horse until they were riding side by side. "I suppose there's no harm in telling you. See, back during the second war, things were growing... Hectic. King Greymane didn't want to take part in it, while Crowley was avid for action. Greymane was against the idea of an Alliance as a whole, while Crowley said we should unite as one against the invaders. I was part of the... Ahem... 'Troops' our good king sent to help defend Lordaeron from the orcs. And even though we were nothing more than a token act, thanks to Crowley's heroic efforts, we managed to help make a difference in that conflict. I for one say we should never grow complacent. The orcs lost, and are now trapped in camps all over the kingdom... But I hear rumours about someone helping free them. Some new warchief who wants to reunite the horde. Maybe they would wage war with us again. I'm ready to defend my land and my people... But our king seems to thing that only encompasses whoever is behind these walls of his."

Dalrus and Felrus listened to the tale intently, untill Dalrus said: "Yeah, but... Isn't he right? I mean... So long as we stay here, nothing will be hitting us anytime soon."

To that, Kalthuz lifted a brow and ever so slightly narrowed his eyes towards his son, as if Dalrus' innocence was a joke to him. "Maybe you're right, boy. But eventually, something will. And then we will see that just like how these walls help keeping things outside from entering... It also does a fine job at keeping us from leaving."


	2. Chapter 2 - War and losses

_**Chapter 2 - War and losses**_

"...Is a disgrace, that's what it is! The true treason would be to not do anything until the dead are crawling at our walls instead of putting an end to them now!" Lord Kalthuz was almost shouting, his hands gripping the edges of his table so hard his knuckles had grown white.

"It is the king's will." Said one of the noble men present with him in the room. "We are not to move. Archmage Arugal in Dalaran has said his research may have uncovered something that we could use to defend ourselves should the moment arise. But until then, we are to remain still."

"To hell with that! I will not sit idly as thousands of people are killed, then raised again as more of those... Flesh-hungry monstrosities! Prince Arthas has already sent the call, so why can't we make our move as well? What the hell is the king thinking!?" Kalthuz looked as if he wanted to hurl his desk of the window behind him, but instead he began to pace back and forth in the room, his arms crossed behind his back as he lowered his head.

All this, Dalrus watched from his hiding spot. The boy had worked hard to help create this viewpoint of his. The space between the manor's floors was rather sparce, but he had managed to crawl his way through until he was over his father's study. Then came the hard labour of drilling a small hole just behind the chandelier, small enough that it wouldn't be spotted by anyone casually glancing upwards. The really difficult part had been carving it in a way no dust would fall off and alert the occupants below.

"Lord Kalthuz, we understand your anger. Truly, we do. But the king's word is absolute. No Gilnean is to move out in this war. And if someone did, he would immediately notice. Even if we were to succeed, we would find no home to come back to afterwards. It's a rather... Complicated situation. They are quite firmly convinced we are safe where we are." Said another one of the present nobles, a middle aged man in a top hat holding a cane before him.

"Then I will go." Felrus suddenly said, stepping forward. "Father, this is what we have been waiting for. Greymane will not notice my absence. I will join crown prince Arthas in his expedition and put an end to this plague threatening our lands!"

Dalrus felt his heart race within his chest. Had he heard this right? "Felrus..." For a moment, Lord Kalthuz' voice gave away, then he quickly cleared his throat and recomposed himself. "If you are willing... I would give anything to join you for this, son. But I am no fool... Already, you are my better at sword play. Blast my old age, and blast these old bones. I know you will make me and Gilneas proud."

Felrus then hesitated for a moment. It looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words for it. "About my brother..."

"Dalrus is to join you, of course." Kalthuz immediately began to say with a nod. "He is, after all, your shadow. You will go together, and-"

"No, father. He must not come."

Silence fell in the room, and Dalrus was surprised the sound of his own heartbeat didn't echo below him.

"What are you talking about? Dalrus is your shadow! He is the Plague, you are the Fang. It is his duty to keep you safe, and aid you precisely in tasks such as these!" Kalthuz began to say, turning to scowl angrily at his son.

Felrus listened to his father's venting for a good while before calmly nodding and saying: "Yes, you are right. If we were to ask this of him, he would come with me. And that is precisely why we mustn't." Taking a deep breath, he leaned back on his seat and launched his gaze upwards... Almost directly at the spot Dalrus was currently hiding in. "I am fully aware this will be dangerous... I could even die. But Dalrus... He is still too young. He hasn't completed his training. And besides... He is needed here. Tensions between Greymane and Crowley are growing. His abilities will be better applied for what's to come in our city. Until then... I want him to live a peaceful life." He then smiled, his gaze lowering to meet his father's. "Let his older brother shoulder his burdens for just a moment longer. Maybe, when I return a hero from the war... We can finally bring down these walls and fight together, as we always should have."

Kalthuz looked a little disarmed before that speech. His shoulders slumped, and he took in a deep breath. "To think I'd live down the day my own son would lecture me... Very well, Felrus. If that is your will, I shall not utter a word to your brother. But you must leave in absolute secrecy. The king must not know that you leave for war... Not yet, at any rate. Perhaps once he sees the results of his decisions, then he will change his mind."

Hours later, Dalrus was laying down by the shade of the wall, staring up at the clear blue sky above. The grass felt cool and soft under him, and his crossed fingers made for a nice rest for his head.

Four whole years had passed since the day a man entered their city, screaming of undead and plagues. Since then, much had happened in the Eastern Kingdoms. A new warchief had risen within the orcish horde, but rather than declaring war, he had seemingly freed his people from the camps they were kept at, then he stole a bunch of ships and sailed away to an unknown location. Many had been glad for this unexpected development, many more confused, but their joy was short lived. Spreading through the north was a deadly plague, a terrible, unthinkable disease that not only killed all it touched, but also raised them back as shambling monstrosities who hungered for the flesh of the living. Apparently that was actually true. Tensions were high, Crowley's voice louder than ever as he screamed for GIlneas to take action, to help fight for their kingdom, their land, their lives. Lordaeron had sent a formal plea to their king, but Greymane simply refused to take action, and even went as far as to prohibit any Gilnean to step outside of their walls to fight a war that supposedly wasn't theirs.

Dalrus, for one, was only too glad not to be outside risking his life against something that wasn't even alive to begin with. His family, however, seemed to have a different opinion, as he had just found out. Now his brother would be leaving to help fight this war. He wished felrus wouldn't go. He wished he could do something about it, change his mind... But there was no way to do so without getting himself involved. He felt lost... Not knowing what to do.

His inner thoughts were interrupted by the sound of steps besides him. Looking around, Dalrus saw his brother approaching, a somewhat sad smile upon his lips. "Shouldn't you be training?" He said as he sat down besides Dalrus. "Eh. My heart isn't really into it." HE replied, looking back at the sky once more.

"Didn't your master use to say that's when you should really focus on the training? If you can do it without even thinking about it, that's when you've really mastered the craft. Or something like that." Dalrus could see his brother was wearing his armor. Brightly polished gauntlets, pauldrons and boots, with a red tabbard with Gilneas' symbol covering his front and legs. His shield was strapped to his back, and a sword was hanging from his waist. Dalrus felt a knot tie on his throat. "Fel..." He began to say, but his brother cut him off.

"I'm going away for a while." The youth said rather simply. "Take care of mother for me in the meantime, will you?"

Dalrus looked aghast before those words, and sat up to face Felrus in the eye. "Why do you have to do this? There are tons of other people out there already risking their lives! Just stay here, where it's safe. You're going to get yourself killed... Or worse!"

To that, Felrus offered only a sad smile. "I knew you were listening. Dalrus, it's easy to say things like that. 'Let someone else do it. This isn't my fight. I'd rather live an easy and comfortable life.' But when we take the easy path, we stray off towards a bad end. No one can live shirking off their duties forever. Sooner or later, we will pay the price for remaning still. The world doesn't stop, Dalrus. If we don't move along with it... We will get swept off completely. I'm doing this... For you. For mother. For father. For our land. For our species..." His voice trailed off for a moment, then his eyes glimmered with determination as his expression hardened. "For the Alliance."

"What the bloody hell has the Alliance done for us!? We are not at war with the horde, and those things can rot off our walls for all I care!" Dalrus almost shouted, now getting up to stare down at his brother, indignation heavy on his every word.

Felrus, instead, simply continued to smile and remain seated. "It's not about what we can do for each other. It's about being part of something great. Alone, we stand no chance against the threats that exist in this world... And beyound. But together... We will beat this menace. And we will survive. I'm going to make sure they don't even come close to Gilneas, Dalrus. And maybe keep them from getting close to a lot of other people who can't do anything for themselves. One day you'll see for yourself... There's a lot of people who would rather sit on the sidelines and wait for others to fix things for them. But I refuse to be one of those people. We can't just lower our heads and pray for something to magically fix everything we hate and fear. I, for one... Will take the reins of my destiny, and change it myself." And with that, he stood up, placed his hand on top of Dalrus' head and leaned in, planting a brotherly kiss on the boy's scalp. "Be good, brother. I promise you I will return. We will meet again." And with that, he turned around and, with confident strides, made his way towards the house, leaving a speechless Dalrus behind as he looked in desperation at his brother's back.

Lost in his thoughts, the boy didn't even realize he was being called until Silvius threw a pebble that painfully smacked him in the temple. "There could be a warzone around you and you wouldn't realize until someone's blade was already five inches deep down your neck, boy." Came the raspy voice of his master, a second pebble at the ready on his palm.

"What do you want now?" Dalrus said, rubbing the side of his head grumpily. "I already finished practice. And I got a lot in my hands right now."

"Hah! That would be a first. Let me teach you something, kid. So long as you draw breath in this life, practice and training will never be finished. No matter what you do, there will always be room for improvement. But, and this is as shocking to me as it is to you, this time, I am not here to give you orders and smack you around when you disobbey. Your mother is calling for you."

As if it were even possible, Dalrus felt his throat grow even drier than it already was. "Wait, she's awake? Now? She didn't take her medicine?" He managed to blurt out, his eyes very wide.

Shaking his head, his master replied: "She said she wanted to have a word with you first. And she can be a damn hard headed woman, but she is still very weak right now. So I suggest you move your arse right now before I decide to follow you very closely with something very sharp to make sure you'll be hasty." But he had already stopped listening. Even Dalrus knew better than to ignore his mother's summons. Almost as if in a daze, he made his way as quickly as possible within the manor, racing along the halls and up the stairway until he was in the doorway of his mother's room. Hesitating briefly, he raised his fist and knocked as gently as he could, before saying: "Mother... Are you awake? May I come in?"

For a few seconds, silence... Then a voice as weak and frail as silk waving in the wind came out from the other side: "Come in, Dalrus..."

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside. Normally, his mother's room was very dark, with the curtains drawn so she could better sleep and rest. Today, however, the window was wide open, offering her a clear view of the city to one side and the huge imposing wall to the other. His mother had been staring out the window, but as he came in, she turned to face her son, a weak smile parting her thin lips. "My son... It's lovely to see you."

Dalrus always had to choke back a sob whenever he saw his mother. Ever since he had been born, Lady Dallys Plaguefang had spent most of her time resting and sleeping in her room. She would lay down for over twelve hours every day, and even when she woke up, she barely had the strength to feed herself. Whenever she felt good enough to be brought out on a wheel chair to enjoy some warm sunlight, she required someone - usually Dalrus himself - to push her around, and even those moments would often end abruptly with her falling asleep on the chair and being brought back to her room. Her skin was very pale, her hair had lost it's colour, and there were bags under her eyes. She was very thin, and fed mostly through soup and healing broths. All this, Dalrus knew, was the result of his birth. He was the reason his mother was the way she was.

Almost as if reading his mind, his mother furrowed her brows. "You always look so concerned when you see me, dear. I know what passes through your mind each time. And time and time again I've told you... I would have gladly died to make sure you could stay in this world even one more day. Don't look at me this way. I'd rather see my son smiling."

' _That's not even the reason I can't smile right now..._ ' Were the bitter thoughts in his mind, but still he managed to force out a grin for his mother. It was an art he had practiced and perfected over the years. "Yeah, sorry. I just... Master Silvius really worked me hard today, you know? I'm just tired, is all. Ah... Shouldn't you be resting right now, mom? Is it OK for you to be pushing yourself like this?"

A soft chuckle escaped her. "Your mother is stronger than you think, dear. Regardless of what state my body is in, I will always have time for my beloved children. And that is what I wish to speak to you about. Dalrus... Come closer, my son."

His eyes were already stinging, but still he withheld his smile as he stepped forward, sitting by the edge of her bed and leaning closer to her. "What is it, mother?"

Suddenly, he felt her arms wrapping around his neck and his face pulled down towards her chest, his mother's chin resting atop his head as he heard her sob above. "My beloved Dalrus... I know. Your brother... He is leaving, isn't he? He is going... He is going to fight in that war. He's going to risk his life... And he might die."

Dalrus was in shock. He did not know how to react, what to do. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close as she cried over him. "Yes..." Was all he managed to say, the word catching in his throat several times like bile.

Pulling her head back a bit, Dalrus could see the tears streaming down along her cheeks, the bags under her eyes inflating even more. "My beloved son... I wished he wouldn't go through this... Neither of you. Your father and I already fought a war, Dalrus. People die. People suffer. Nothing good comes out of it. We battled the orcs, we defended our home... But in the end, the conflict never is truly finished. We did our part to save as many lives as we could... Hoping we could make a better world for you and your brother. But that's just a foolish dream, after all..." She sighed, then began to tenderly run her hand along the back of her son's head. "Mother... Can't you do something?" He finally said, his hands going for her shoulders as he stared into her teary eyes. "Surely, if you talk to father, or Felrus... I know that if you tell them not to, they won't go through with this!"

To that, his mother smiled, her head leaning ever so slightly to the side. Her hand moved up to cup his cheek, her grip about as strong as a piece of fabric falling over his face. "Dalrus, you are so kind... But also misguided, dear. I could never, and I would never stop your brother from attempting to do what he believes is right. Your father is the same way. The only reason he does not go himself is because of... Well, me. He wouldn't care losing this home or his fortune so long as he could do something for the people of his land. But he could never act so selfishly for as long as you and I are a part of his life. Kalthuz has always thought of his family... He would never abandon us to pursue his own ideals. I suppose he sees in your brother a way to do a bit of both. Felrus is of age, and he has trained his entire life for this moment."

"But... Mother, he's going to be killed! Or worse!" Dalrus frantically said, desperation raising in his voice. "What does it matter anyway?! Those people in the Alliance... What have they ever done for us?! All they know how to do is wage war and throw people's lives away for stupid reasons! Greymane is right, we should just stay here and live out our lives whole those blokes out there cut each other's throats out!"

A loud, sharp noise echoed in the room. It wasn't even the pain that shocked Dalrus, or the fact his mother had shown as much strength as any woman could as she slapped him - and perhaps even more - but the fact that suddenly she didn't look so frail and meek anymore. Her eyes, usually so kind and on the verge of closing shut, were very sharp and burning with passionate intensity as she glared down at her son. The hand she had used to slap him was still outstretched to her far side, as if threatening to give him a backhand if he dared to speak him again. And when she spoke, it wasn't with her barely audible whisper of a voice, but a strong, vigorous speech that instantly had him dry his tears up. "Dalrus Plaguefang! Don't you dare ever utter such words again! You are not alone in this world. There are many people with the same dreams and hopes as you. People who want nothing to do with war, people who just want to live peacefully with their families. But there is also even more evil out there, Dalrus. Do you know what that is? Do you know what true evil, true malice is, Dalrus?"

He could only stare at her dumbfolded, his hand laying over the reddening spot on his cheek. "No... Mother."

"Then I will tell you what." She practically hissed, her eyes narrowing down as she glared at him. "Those who have power. Power the likes of which you could never even dream of. Powers that maybe, one day, you yourself will hold. And then they use this power to opress and abuse those who are uncapable of defending themselves. Those who think nothing of life and would end it as an after thoght, or just for pure pleasure. And let me tell you one thing. I fought the orcs. I killed dozens of them. Do you think they were evil, boy?"

Almost as if in auto pilot, he stupidly muttered out: "Yes." And then the hand came back down, smacking him across the other side of his face. "WRONG!" His mother practically screamed. "The orcs were just a horde of desperate people seeking to escape their dying world and conquer a new place for their women and children to live in. But they were being controlled. Controlled by someone who was truly evil. Gul'Dan and his shadow council were pulling the strings from the shadows, and let me tell you, that warlock was the true face of evil. He wanted everything, and he didn't care how many died for him to achieve his goals. I saw Deathwing the Destroyer spread destruction with every beat of his damned wings. That mad dragon relished in the charring wastelands he left in his wake, and that, too, was true evil. And you would let that ran freely through our land and wait until they come knocking at your doorstep? You think some hero will conveniently show up and save you!?"

Dalrus was absolutely stunned. He did not know what to say, what to think, how to react. He could only stare wide eyed at his mother with his mouth slightly agape.

"No, Dalrus. You need to understand that evil will not simply go away. It's useless to just ignore this world's problems and hope in the end everything will turn out alright. Unless you do something for yourself, nothing will end up the way you want it to. That's just not how life works. But if you really wish for it to be like that... Then you have to be the one to make it that way. You will need to be the one to go and fight evil, to make sure it will never reach the gates of this city you love so much. And that is why your brother is leaving. Because he wants to hold this illusion for you. The illusion that you will be able to live peacefully in GIlneas forever. You weren't around before this damned wall was erected. You didn't see the chaos the world was in. And now everything points to a new war. Even more pain and suffering are on their way, Dalrus. And if you don't do your part to fight it... You, me, your father, your brother, and everyone else... We will die."

Finnally, her voice had lowered, and the hand she used to strike him with was now gently rubbing his sore cheek. "You must understand, my son. The moment you lower your head and let others take charge for you, you're nothing more than cattle. A lamb. And just like that, without even realizing, you will one day be led to the slaughter. You must be strong, my son. Be strong so no one can wrap a chain around you. Be strong enough to make sure no one dies in vain, and that you can live a life without regrets, knowing that you have always done everything within your power to prevent tragedy from ocurring."

His hand slowly pressed over hers. "I just..." And then the tears came out. His face twisted in sorrow and he threw himself forward once more, sobbing uncontrollably against his mother's breast as the tears flowed down. "I don't want to lose him... Or you... Or father... Or anyone!"

His mother began to lovingly rub the back of his head as she spoke softly. "I know that, my dear. But you should know my life isn't worth more than anyone else's. All life is important and valuable. Your brother knows that. That's why he is going to risk his life. And maybe one day, you too will risk yours for something that you believe in. It doesn't matter how long we live, Dalrus. What does matter is what we managed to accomplish during this short time we humans spend on this earth. Unlike the elves and dwarves and gnomes, we don't have hundreds of years to accomplish our ambitions. We can only do what we can with the little time available. And so we make sure we live without regrets."

He said nothing. He simply continued to cry against his mother, his hands gripping at her arms and moaning out sadly. "I won't... I won't lose you. I won't let anything ever happen to you. I'll keep you safe... And Felrus... Should I go with him? Should I make sure he comes back safe?" He lifted his head, his eyes locking with his mother's, full of fear and doubt.

She met his gaze with a surprisingly calm one, and the hand on his head gave an affectionate squeeze. "It's not time yet, my dear. You still have much to learn. One day, you will. One day, you and your brother, together, will be truly unstoppable. But until then... You must train. Truly earn the right to be Felrus' shadow so that the day he triumphantly returns, you will be able to look him in the eye not as his younger brother... But as his equal."

Wiping his tears with the back of his sleeve, Dalrus managed to muster one of his rare truly sincere smiles towards his mother. "I will... Thank you, mother. And... I'm sorry I was so selfish."

"Oh, my baby..." She cooed, embracing him once more... But this time with far less intensity. "You are growing so fast. Of course if it were up to me, I'd see you both playing and growing up together behind this blasted wall for the rest of our days. Greymane is blind... And one day he will pay the price... For this... Folly..."

"Mother?" Suddenly alarmed, Dalrus took his mother by the waist and the back of her neck. She was growing limp. "Mother? Come on, say something!"

Her eyes fluttered to a close a few times, then when she opened them again, the stared at his general direction but were clearly out of focus. "I'm sorry, dear... I'm just so tired... I need to rest a bit... Could you close the curtains for... Me..." Before her sentence was truly finished, the woman had closed her eyes and passed out on his arms.

Dalrus felt like a rubber ball was caught on his throat. Swallowing down a sob, he gently lowered her down on the bed and proceeded to close the windows and pull down the curtains, leaving the room in utter darkness. "I know you're there, by the way." He almost casually said as he turned around and began leaving the room.

Surely enough, Silvius was outside waiting for him. "I would be impressed if you could have actually figured out where I was hiding. But of course, knowing I would eavesdrop was just obvious." Dalrus suddenly turned around to face the man, his fingers curling into fists as he felt anger grow inside of him. "Well, bloody good for you! Now if you're just going to taunt me, bugger off because I am in no bloody mood to take this from you!"

The master rogue grew mortally silent as he stared down at the boy. Dalrus knew he was about to be smacked across the head, stabbed or even poisoned. He didn't care. All he wanted that moment was something to take his anger out on.

And so, it was an even bigger shock than when his mother struck him when the man stepped forward and gently placed his hand on top of the boy's head. "Life sure is a mess, eh? People you love go off risking their lives, and there's not a damn thing you can do for them but hope one day you can do something to make their lives easier."

Dalrus' shoulders suddenly slumped, all that anger venting off in an instant. "I don't need your bloody lessons now. I just... I just need some time. To... Deal with this." Before he could help himself, he looked at the closed door, knowing his mother slept like the dead on the other side.

"I'm not speaking as your master now." Came the stern reply. "I am speaking as your uncle. Now let me ask you something, Dalrus... Do you think that, even for one second in her life, my sister regrets giving birth to you? Do think there was ever a moment where she wished she could have told the priest to let you die so she could ride the horse along with her other son one day?"

All air left his lungs. Dalrus simply stared at Silvius, who, in turn, stared right back at him, clearly awaiting for his reply. Taking a deep breath, Dalrus stared down at his feet and whispered: "How could she not? I ruined her body... And her life. I am the sole reason she spents her every moment in this damned room and can't even wash herself when she bathes."

Dalrus waiting for Silvius to smack him with a poisoned dagger. Instead, he saw the man squat slightly before him and place his hand upon the boy's shoulder. "Now if you will ever listen to speech of mine, now is the time boy, because I will never utter more sincere words in my life." Dalrus raised his face and stared straight at his uncle's stern face. "My sister loves you. Ever since she realized she was pregnant of you and consulted the priests for the first time, she was told time and time again that it would be better to let you perish and try to have another baby with her husband. She was told that you would die before you drew your first breath in this world. And despite all that, she still decided to go through with it. She dumped every last bit of vitality she had into you. That day, you didn't just take everything she had. She was the one who decided to sacrifice everything so that you could have a chance in this world. And never in this long life of mine, a life that's been mostly dedicated to end others, have I ever seen such a humbling and wonderful act of love. And if you want to know if she would change things if she could... I would say that, if she had the chance, she would go the extra mile to rid you of your bug bite allergy even if it meant she would be blind and deaf on top of everything else. So don't you dare ever make light of her sacrifice. If any... The only thing she does regret is seeing you waste your life like a bird in a cage when you could be out there, spreading your wings and doing something for this world we all bled and live in."

Once Silvius was done speaking, the choking in Dalrus' throat was gone. He took a deep breath and stuffed out his chest, his eyes gleaming as he made his decision. "I thought you hated being called Uncle Silvius. And if I ever called you that again you'd peel off a layer of my tongue."

Silvious scoffed. "That's because you don't need any more parental figures in your life, boy. You have plenty of that already. What you needed was someone to teach you how rough life in this world is, and to harden you for it so that when it does strike, you'd be ready. But I suppose that's not how rogues do thing, is it?" And now he was grinning, his hand leaving Dalrus shoulder as he stood up straight.

"Nah. We would much rather dodge the blow altogether, then stab it in the back while it's tumbling." Now Dalrus was smiling too. Of course. That was how he would do it, then. Like a true rogue, he would find a way to make things right his own way. Unseen. Unexpected. From the shadows. Sneaking and dodging past all the hardships... He would find a way to make it all work.

"Precisely. And that is why tonight you and I are going to follow your brother and alert the guards so they catch him in the act and prevent him from ever stepping foot outside this city again."

Like a night stalker, he would learn how to take his enemie's secrets, to end the wicked when they least expected, so that when his brother came back a hero of war, together, they could finally... "Come again?"

"Pay attention. See? When the guards turn the corner, there's a blind spot. That's when we make a dash for the next safe spot." Silvius whispered, pointing at the corner of the street before them. Surely enough, whenever the guards turned around there would be a brief moment that space behind him was unwatched until the next guard came in.

The moon was full tonight, but mostly hidden behind clouds. The dark streets of Gilneas were lit by several lamp posts stationed along the sidewalks, which provided plenty of light for the guards to keep watch over the few people who still wandered off during the dark night.

Dalrus and his uncle were squatting down behind an shop stall, with several shoes displayed in a glass case besides them. They had left soon after Felrus and Lord Kalthuz, who had made an arrengement with the gate guards for tonights escapade. He still couldn't believe they were there.

Silvius had explaned that simply tipping the guards off would do little to keep his brother in. After all, people attempted to find ways of running off all the time - mostly for no reason other than getting some fresh air outside, hunting for sport or visiting a distant relative before coming right back in. Warning them beforehand would do little more than raise the price of Kalthuz' bribe, so as it were, nothing short than a flagrant by several guards would do. Something loud enough for Greymane himself to hear that one of the noble lords attempted to sneak his son off to fight in the war he explicitly forbade his people from participating in.

"Wait, but what about mother's talk about fighting for the others and doing the right thing?" A very confused and perplexed Dalrus had asked earlier.

"Bugger that, I don't want to see either of you blockheads dying off while the rest of this city sleeps in their silken sheets. Either Greymane sends the entire army off to do our part, or no one, especially a green knave who is my nephew, goes off to die for an ungrateful nation." Had been the sharp reply. "Don't act like you didn't think of it. You want your brother to stay, don't you? So follow my lead and I'll make sure you two be together until our good king decides to pull his head out of his arse and listen to Crowley for once."

True enough, as of late, Greymane had only grown more and more reserved, especially after this talk about plagued grains and undead reached them. There had been talk about a curfew, but in the end, there was a simple warning to the people and an increase in the guard, and no longer would they import food from outside. Gilneas would only feed on what they could produce. Not that there was a lack of food, but there sure was a lack in variety. People were growing very restless, and Lord Darius Crowley had gone as far to loudly saying the word 'tyranny'.

None of that mattered that moment, however. Racing past the unsuspecting guards, Dalrus and Silvius reached the point where his brother and father were. It was a backalley that lead to a bulding just besides the gigantic gates. The two rogues could hear the faint whispers of Lord Kalthuz; "...here while I go and make sure everything is ready. The greedy fools will be sure to try and extort a couple gold coins more from me now that we are so close. Be very quiet, I'll see if I can find a second forse for you as well."

"Alright, Dalrus. This is it. See that up there?" Silvius pointed upwards, and Dalrus saw what appeard to be a potted plant resting on the edge of a window shelf. "I'll make my way up there. First, you make a small distraction over this side. That will make the guards turn their heads this way. Could be anything, just throw a pebble at a window or something. Then, once the pot crashes down, they will all come running to see what the second noise is. Then they will see your brother. It will look like an accident and I doubt they will suspect anything."

"Alright." Came Dalrus' whisper, his heart racing within his chest. He had never done this before. Sure, he had performed stealth training with Silvius in the past, but never had he put it to practice like this. Just as his master vanished from sight, Dalrus slowly reached up for one of the crates that was laying on the ground before the shop stall. He pulled the wire free and loosened the lid up. Inside were a few cheap leather sandals, but that wasn't what he was looking for. Dalrus hoisted the lid all the way up, then slammed it down as hard as he could. It didn't produce a very loud noise, but in that silent night, it sounded like someone had just crashed down a door.

Felrus was the first one to raise his head. Dalrus was safely out of sight, but from where he was, he could see his brother's eyes go very wide... And Dalrus hesitated. Those eyes... His brother's eyes... They were full of fear. There, alone, in that cold night, even while clad in his battle armor, with his shield strapped to his back and his sword at his waist... Felrus Plaguefang looked afraid. Not for who or what could have produced that sound... But for what it represented. An end to his quest before it even began.

Dalrus froze. Never in his entire life had he seen his brother like that. Felrus had always been dauntless, determined, fearless... And there he was, suddenly not knowing what to do. Alone and afraid.

His daze was broken when from around the corner came a loud voice saying: "What was that? Who's there?" And that was when they were both broken out of their stupor. Felrus looked around frantically, then began to carefully move along the walls so he would remain in a blind spot when the guards came to investigate. Dalrus knew that as soon as the guards came, Silvius would drop the pot and they would all look at Felrus' direction, who was now squatting down behind a dumpster.

' _Oh for the love of... They will see you before the pot even falls you moron!_ ' Were the words that raced along Dalrus' mind as he suddenly sprinted down the dark street. From the corner of his eye, he saw the plant fall. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. Within a second, Dalrus was next to his brother, grabbing him by the gauntleted wrist and giving him a tug so sharp he actually pulled Felrus to his feet. So surprised he was, he didn't even react as Dalrus pulled him along the opposite side of the corner and threw his dark cloak over his brother's face. Then the pot fell down, and Dalrus was momentarily dazzled by the light of the guard's lamp. "HEY, YOU! STOP WHERE YOU ARE!" Without a moment of hesitation, Dalrus lifted his arm over his face and ran straight forward. He fainted to the left, then swerved to the right, feeling the guard's hand slide past his side as his maneuver worked. And on he ran, now no less than three guards screaming and running after him. Dalrus led them the exact opposite direction his brother was clumsily pulling the cloak off his head and staring dumbfounded as his brother vanished into the streets of Gilneas.

' _Bloody hell, what the bugger am I doing!?_ ' Were the thoughts that finally passed through his head, his heart racing in his chest as he kept his head low and his knees bent. Time and time again the guards' lamps illuminated his body, only for him to dash to the side, zig-zag and climb over stalls and garbage cans so as to prevent them from focusing on him. By now there were five of them, and more were being warned along the way. ' _I came here to stop him, not bloody save him! I must be going mental!_ ' Then, suddenly, he was at the end of a street, with nothing but a big hat store ahead of him. "Got you now, little twerp!" Came the guard's voices from behind. As if his body were acting on his own, Dalrus did not even slow down as he continued to run forward. As he reached the wall next to the shop's doorway, he managed to take three whole steps upwards, using his momentum to run up the wall before kicking forward and reaching out with his hands. This caused him to leap up into the air and allow him to grab the big metal sign above the door. Dalrus hoisted himself on top of it, then leapt forward once more, this time finding footing on a window shelf. After that he began jumped from one window to the next, until he reached a rain gutter. He climbed it down like a pole, landing safely behind the confused and somewhat amazed guards, who, due to their heavy armor, need a moment to stand still and shift directions. Dalrus resumed his race, this time taking a left turn... Only to find two guards cutting him off. He had no choice but to go back the way he came, but as soon as he approached the square he had left his brother, Dalrus found no less than four more guards waiting for him. Even more surprisingly was the fact Lord Vincent Godfrey himself was standing there atop his horse with a very satisfied smirk on his mustached face. "Well, looks like the tip wasn't off after all. Now where are your father and brother, brat?"

' _Oh... Bugger._ '


	3. Chapter 3 - To be a rogue

_**Chapter 3 - To be a rogue**_

"See, captain?" Came the triumphant voice of the noble as his horse trotted around. "I told you. Lord Kalthuz Plaguefang and his son would come around tonight and try to breach the wall, no doubt to join that traitor Crowley and plot behind our king's back. Lucky we that the brat spared us the trouble of ambushing them down the road and told us where they were right now. Seize him!"

"Wait, hold on a moment..." Dalrus took a step back, sweat trickling down his brow. He was about to make a run for the way he had just come when the sound of heavy steps came from behind. "Bloody hell, the twat runs... But you got nowhere to climb to now, you sneaky little bugger!" Surrounded, Dalrus looked around, desperation quickly growing inside of him. He was seriously considering attempting to disarm the closest guard - who was foolishly approaching him with an outstretched hand to grab him by the wrist - when suddenly the sharp voice of his father cut through the night. "What in the bloody hells do you think you're doing to my son, Godfrey!?"

Turning around, his heart still drumming on his chest, Dalrus saw his father standing by the corner. Surprised he was, however, to see not his brother standing by his side, but instead, the town's priest - the very same man who had performed Dalrus' birth years ago. The man looked like a dried old prune now, his back very arched and his hand gripping tightly at the staff, although his eyes still glowed with sharp wisdom. "May I inquire why you have a full damned battallion chasing my son like a criminal?" Lord Kalthuz' voice once again echoed through the night as he began to march forward, his face twisted in fierce anger.

Unfazed, Godfrey took his horse forward and stood between Kalthuz and his son. "You can't fool me, Plaguefang. I know fully well you intended to smuggle your son out of our walls tonight. You would have him join that insurgent Crowley and bring war to our peaceful Gilneas! The king has explicitly forbidden anyone from joining this war. And you know damn well the price for treason. And yet here you are, with him and so late at night!"

"Have you gone senile at your age, you damned fool!?" Kalthuz shouted right back. "I came here as fast as I could because my wife's condition took a bad turn today. She wouldn't wake to have her dinner, so I came as fast as I could to call the priest. And I'm guessing the boy was worried and chased after me, even after I told him to stay behind and take care of her." Dalrus somehow doubted that his father's glare at him was part of the act. "Thank the Light I found the priest out on my way to him. And we are already on our way back to the manor."

"A tall story, Plaguefang." Godfrey said, an odious smile lifting his long white mustache. "But you can't fool me. I know this man is an old friend of yours! His testimony is worth nothing. And how do you explain the fact your son is out here, with all his armor and-" As Godfrey spoke, he pulled out his sword and turned around to point at Dalrus, only to have his words catch in his throat as he realized the boy was only clad in his regular black shirt and trousers, with a simple belt strapped around his waist. "A-and besides!" He was quick to recompose himself. "That you two are here like this at this time is very suspicious!"

"When the mother of my children is ill, I could not give a lesser damn to your bloody notions of time. I would tear these bricks down with my bare hands if I had to bring a healer from the other side. Now if you want to fine and sentence me for whatever the hell you want, you do it after I bring him to see my sick wife! And I swear to heavens and hells if you don't get out of my way right now, I will MAKE you move, Godfrey!" It was amazing how Kalthuz could look so imposing and threatening when Godfrey was the one on horseback and his sword drawn out. Before the threats, however, the man was once again quick to recompose himself. "You would threaten me, you ruffian? That does it. Guards, seize this-"

"What's all this commotion about, Vincent?" Suddenly a new voice cut out through the night. This time, no other than Prince Lyam Greymane himself came down the road, fully clad in guard armor and riding one of the patrol horses. "I suggest both of you calm down before you wake half the city. Although by now it might already be too late." And surely enough, by now there were several lights on the windows, most of them open and with people peering outside, as well as from the doors below.

"Prince Lyam!" Came Godfrey's somewhat sarcastic sneer. "I am here apreeheding this criminal after I received a tip of his betrayal! I was told that Lord Kalthuz Plaguefang and his son would, tonight, attempt to betray our king! They would join that traitor, Darius Crowley outside and go fight in this war alongside the Alliance." Crowley's horse was now impatiently stomping the groud, and it's rider had no chouce but to sheathe his sword so as to bring the beast under control.

"Well now." Lyam replied, his eyes shifting to Dalrus on the floor. "I dare say the boy looks rather ill-equipped for war, no? Unless you propose a youth who isn't even of proper age is to face this undead plague with his bare fists?"

Before that, Crowley's voice failed a couple time. "I-Well, yes, I suppose, but-"

"And I did have the pleasure of hearing today that Lady Dallys had called for her son in the middle of the afternoon. We all know of her condition well enough. I wouldn't be surprised if, as a result from this strain, she found herself even further weakened. Nor would I be surprised if her worried husband decided to call for help at the slightest sign of her condition worsening."

"I-Yes, I know, prince Lyam, however, this boy attempted to escape us! He ran away from the guards, and even if his father was supposedly out to find a healer for his wife, then what is he doing here?" Clinging on to his last hope, Crowley pointed an accusing finger at Dalrus.

"Ah, yes. Indeed, I suppose you are right. We cannot have children out during the night alone during these troubled times. Lord Kalthuz!" And now Lyam turned to face Dalrus' father, who stood up straight and faced the young prince without uttering a word. "I trust you will discipline your son. It's bad enough he was out past what should be designated time, but he alse gave our guards quite the chase, from what I've heard. Anyone could have mistaken him for a criminal and would be within their right to seriously injure him."

Dalrus could almost see the tension leaving his father's shoulders as he inhaled sharply and nodded. "Aye, your majesty. You rest assured I'll be giving him a lot to hear as soon as we get home. After tending to his mother, of course. Now, forgive my boldness, but I was so focused on finding someone to treat her I forgot to get a horse and simply ran all the way here without much thought. Mayhaps you could be so kind as to provide us an escort back home?"

"You can't seriously-" Crowley began to speak, but was cut off by Lyam. "How fortunate, I was about to suggest that some of the sentries accompanied you. Not that I doubt you, but I'm certain it would bring great peace to Lord Godfrey to know that you didn't stray off the path on the way back, true to your word. Guards." Lyam snapped his fingers, and a couple of knights on horseback stepped forward, each of them with an extra horse for them. "Give your wife my best wishes, Lord Kalthuz. As for you, Dalrus..." Maybe it was just his imagination, but Dalrus swore he almost saw Lyam smile down at him. "Be a good lad and don't give your father and the guard so much work again, alright?"

"Aaah... Yes. Sorry about that, Lyam." Dalrus said, launching an apologetic smile up at the prince. "How's Lorna, by the way?"

"We don't meet very often, though I hear her hounds are growing well. She says soon they will be fit to track even worgs. Now, stay out of trouble. Men, back to your posts!" And then, just like that - and with Crowley launching them one last venomous look - Dalrus climbed onto the horse with his father, the priest taking the other one, and silently rode home. Just as his father was hoisting him up, however, Dalrus glanced one last time towards the alley he had left his brother with his cloak... And there he saw Felrus glancing from over the edge of a garbage can, his eyes full of gratitude towards his brother. The brothers both stared into each other's eyes, and it felt like they sustained that look for an eternity.

' _Go make a difference, Felrus.'_ Dalrus thought as they silently rode back to their manor. ' _I'll be waiting for you._ '

The ride was long and silent, not one person uttering a word the whole time. As soon as they arrived, the guards gave them one last warning not to attempt something like this again, and left. The priest, who had been silent for that whole time, finally let out a long, tired sigh. He then stood straight up, shook his head like a dog, and it looked as if his face was turning into smoke, shifting until it had assumed the shape of Silvius Moonbite. "Bloody hells, that was close. I'm surprised Lyam played along with it, though."

To that, Kalthuz turned around to face his brother-in-law. "YOU'RE surprised!? What the hell are you two even doing here!? We were supposed to leave in secret, yet apparently half the damn town knew about it!"

"Ah, well. Yes, about that..." Silvius looked down at Dalrus, who had fully expected the man to shoot daggers with his eyes later on with his hands. The look he received, however, was quite far from that. He almost looked... Satisfied? "Why don't you ask your son? He was the one who found out one of your so called 'allies' was reporting to Godfrey."

"Oh, ah... Oh, yeah! Yes, definitely!" He was quick to say, launching his father a rather forced innocent smile. "Yeah, I, uh... I heard them saying something about... Telling Godfrey and stealing your fortune. Or... Something. So I went to... Warn you. Or distract them. Yeah, that's what I went to do. Because I knew Godfrey would try to abush you outside."

His father launched a suspicious glance towards his son. "You don't say. And it didn't occur to you warn me in advance?" His look then settled upon Silvius, a brow raising inquisitively up on his forehead.

"Naturally that would be the first thing we would have done. Unfortunately, there just wasn't enough time. We had no choice but to... Improvise." It was amazing how naturally Silvius was able to lie right in front of Kalthuz' scary suspicious face without a moment's hesitation. "Fortunately, in the end, all ended well. Felrus is well on his way, and no one is the wiser. We will only need to keep the ruse and make it look like Felrus is still here for the next few months."

"Hmph. Well, I suppose that's good enough. Still, it was a very foolish thing to do. Making the guards chase you around like a petty criminal?!" And now he once again turned to Dalrus, each of his hands resting upon his hips as he pushed his chest out. "Think before you act, boy! What if one of them pulled out a gun? What if they decided you were too suspicious to take in uninjured?"

"You father is right. That was rash, and absolutely not what we had decided upon. But..." Dalrus could have sworn he saw Silvius hide a chuckle behind his father's back. "All's well that ends well, I suppose. I'd say this was a good lesson for him. You can be sure I'll be drilling a lot more in this empty head of his soon."

Kalthuz's look of surprise as he turned around to face Silvius was priceless. He then launched the same puzzled look at Dalrus, who was inconspicuously whistling as he looked up at the moon. Finally, the father slumped his shoulders in defeat. "You two are up to something, I know it. But I suppose neither of you would be a rogue worth their salt if I could imagine what it was. Blast it, you're right. All's well that ends well, let's leave it at that. I need some sleep... And prepare my fingers to squeeze someone's neck tomorrow." With that, he turned around and took three steps towards their manor when he suddenly stopped and slowly turned right back. "That reminds me... Which one was the noble who whispered into Godfrey's ear again, Dalrus?"

The boy froze. His heart racing in his chest, he dared not even launch a side glance towards Silvius as his father glared down upon him. His mouth had gone dry, and his palms began to sweat. "Ah... W-well, that's, uh... Y-you know, the one with the mustache."

Kalthuz squinted down on him. "That's strike one, son."

Dalrus was almost hyperventilating now. "I-I mean the really big one. You know, the one who's always looking at you funny during your secret meetings."

If it were possible, Kalthuz squinted even harder. "And how exactly did you come to know about those?"

All the boy could hear was his own blood pumping into his ears. "Oh... I mean... No, ah... I meant when they... That is, uh-"

"I was the one who told him." Silvius nonchallantly said.

"And how in the blazes did you-" Kalthuz began to say, then realized who he was talking to. "Oh. Bleeding hells Silvius, I should have imagined you would find some way to know everything that happens in my damn house, but the least I'd expect would be for you to share some of that with me beforehand!"

"It was just a suspicion. That's why I began to follow him. And just as I got back to the manor, you had already vanished to make the preparations for Felrus to go. So I called Dalrus up and we ran as fast as we could to try and thwart Godfrey's plans." Silvius shrugged. "I supposed we were a little too close for comfort this time around, but... Well. That's usually how rogues do things."

"Don't I know that." Kalthuz grunted, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Alright, I'm satisfied. I'm going to bed. And, ah..." One final time, he turned to face his son, and this time he was holding a wide smile. "Good work, I suppose. Not a lot of boys could lead an entire platoon of soldiers on a chase for that long. Not even your brother at your age." And with that, Kalthuz entered the manor as Dalrus and his uncle stood there watching him.

As soon as his father was out of earshot, Dalrus turned to glare at Silvius, his mouth stretched into a thin line and his eyes narrowed down, an attitude which his uncle regarded with a loud: "What?"

"Don't you bloody 'what' me! You knew, didn't you? We weren't just bloody making things up on the spot, you knew Godfrey was going to ambush them down the road!" It took a lot of his self-control not to scream that moment, though his hands did curl into tiny fists as he vented off.

"Ah, well. Yes, I suppose you could call that 'Plan B'." Silvius said with a shrug. "If you somehow screwed up, I needed to be prepared, no?"

"If I screwed-? Wait, were YOU the one who told them we were coming?" Dalrus was so shocked he forgot to be angry for a moment.

"Don't act so surprised." Dalrus could see the rogue was sustaining an amused grin under his cowl. "It wouldn't have made any difference. I was just making sure things would go our way. Though I am very surprised by your last minute change of heart. Why did you decide to let him go?"

"That's none of your bloody business. And it's one thing to arrange them to get caught before they are out, it's completely different to throw them into the bloody lion's den! Godfrey would have torn our family apart!" He could not believe how casual Silvius was being about this... Like he didn't really care so long as things went his way.

"Ah, yes... But that would only be the case if you failed, boy." And now suddenly the amused smile had disappeared. "If you had failed to perform your mission, your brother would be in some deep problems indeed. He would be here, but not on your terms. And as you said, your family would also suffer dire consequences. Do you understand, boy?" And suddenly Silvius' face was mere inches away from Dalrus, who had to take a step back in surprise. "That's what happens when we, rogues, receive a mission... And fail. To people like us are given some of the most vital, and the ugliest missions. Sometimes, we must absolutely make sure we achieve our goal, even if it will bring a lot of people pain. But so long as you commit to the cause, and don't screw up..." Dalrus felt a light poke on his side, and when he looked down, he saw the pommel of Silvius' dagger rubbing him there. "Everything will turn out OK. Now go to sleep, tomorrow I'm gonna teach how to actually lose those chasers before you're caught."

Dalrus was silent, his face staring down at his feet. Silvius was already halfway in through the doorway when suddenly the boy whispered: "No."

Stopping on his tracks, and without looking back, Silvius grabbed the door and said over his shoulder. "You say something, boy?"

Anger rising within him, Dalrus looked up and stuffed his chest out. "No, that's unnaceptable. I refuse to just forget everything else and focus on nothing but the results. What about everyone else on the way? Should I just turn a cold shoulder if I end up ruining someone's life? I would never do something like that to my family... Or bloody anyone, for that matter! So if that's what you want to teach me, to turn me into some cold blooded, calculating monster who only cares about the ends and not the means... Then don't bother coming to train me tomorrow, because I'm through being a rogue!"

Without waiting for a reply, Dalrus turned around and began to race down the road, trying to hold back his tears. He hadn't taken five steps before tripping down on something, falling down on his face and feeling the massive weight of Silvius pressing down against his back. "Nice speech, but you were about to throw off all you said away so you could run off to cry, get caught and put your father into even more trouble. Think before you act, boy."

"Get the bloody hell off me you hook-nosed scrunch!" Dalrus screeched, trying to wriggle himself free.

Silvius let out a loud sigh. "Alright, I will." Thankfully, Dalrus felt Silvius get off his back... But as soon as he tried to stand up, his arms gave out and he fell flat on his face once more. As he looked up, he saw his master wiping his dagger on the boy's own pants. "Though I can't imagine why you'd rather be poisoned than held down. To each their own, I suppose."

Dalrus tried to speak, but his tongue felt very heavy in his mouth. Other than his neck and eyes, he couldn't move much of his body. "Sorry about these extreme measures, but I got a feeling you wouldn't listen to me another way." Dalrus felt a boot pushing his side, then he was rolled onto his back, his face staring up at the bright full moon in the sky, which was then eclipsed by his uncle's serene face. "Now, I get that you're very angry at me, so I'll let that comment of yours slide. But now you need to listen to what might be the single most important lesson I could ever teach you as a rogue."

Slvius sat down cross-legged besides his nephew, who in his poisoned state, could do little more than lay there and launch angry looks at him. "You need to understand there is such a thing as a greater good in this world, boy. To you that would be things like friends and family. To me... That would be the majority of the people who inhabit this city, and Azzeroth itself. I am an assassin, boy. I have lied to, poisoned and killed many people. Each time I felt a life slip through my blades I told myself it was for the sake of the greater good. That each person I killed would mean saving the lives of many others. That sure worked wonders on the last two wars we had against the orcs and their demons." And then he grew silent, his face assuming a more somber... And maybe... Saddened look? "But that is a very dangerous line of thought... Because it can end up turning us cold. Very, very cold. I have done things I'm not proud of, boy. And I did them in the name of my kingdom. Of my family. Of my wife and son. And I kept doing it... Until the day I had to make a choice." His voice thone had lowered, and his eyes grew even sadder. "I had a mission, see. Probably the most important one of my life. A warlock was amassing demons to launch an attack on GIlneas. He would start with the villages surrounding us, and eventually make his way through a weak spot in our defences. I was to go and eliminate him. Problem is, I wouldn't make it three steps into his camp before I had my organs clawed out by hungry demons. So for that to happen... A diversion was necessary."

Dalrus could see his uncle was now clenching his gloved hands. "See, Dalrus... The Moonbite wasn't a prestigius family. Nor were we rich, or influential. We were just another one out there. We could live around Gilneas, trade with the city, mingle with it's people, even go so far as to call ourselves citizens... But still, we weren't as important as the thousands of people living in the main city. So when the demons began attacking my home... Your mother and I were supposed to kill their leader and help save thousands of lives. For the price of two old people, a woman, and her child." Silvius looked down upon him then. His wrinkly face was soaked with streaming tears now, which made his sunken eyes look even more hollow. "I did what I knew was necessary. It wasn't my call to make, Dalrus. I didn't even know. All I was told was that a small family on the outskirks would be the bait to lure out the demons and leave their leader unguarded. I killed him with my own hands, and that broke his control over them. The demons went feral and irrational, making them easy prey for the extermination squad sent to deal with them. But that also meant anyone in their way would be slaughtered like animals. And when I joined the squad and saw where they were fighting... I also saw the mangled corpses of my parents, my wife, and my son in the burning remains of what was once my home."

Silvius closed his eyes and brought his hand up to them. "That's how your mother and your father met, you know. Kalthuz was so mad that his captain had chosen to use a family like that as bait, his fellow soldiers were holding him back as he screamed profanities. But your mother was the one who was truly angry. She did not say a word, nor did she shed any tears. I just looked at her, and I could feel the killing instinct emanating from her. In her head, the captain was already dead. The rest was just a matter of how she would do it. That very same night, me and her were on our way to his quarters... But as we got there, we met a very... Surprising scene."

The man took a moment to wipe his tears and took a very deep breath before resuming his tale. "Kalthuz was already there. It would seem he took the matter up with his superiors. No one cared about the captain's call in using those people as bait to save the city... Except for one person. And that was the one who was besides your father that night. Someone you should know very well... His name is Darius Crowley. That's how way back he and your father go, you know. Crowley found those kinds of actions unnaceptable. He said he would hold the line himself against the demons if he knew what was going on, and sacrificing innocent people was just as bad as what the orcs did. Next thing we knew, the captain was demoted and relocated to serve in his squad. The day after, Kalthuz walked straight up to me and your mother, got on his knees and said: 'What we did to you was unforgivable. I know nothing in this world could possibly ease your pain and make up for your loss. But I swear on this blasted life I will do everything in my power to make sure nothing like this ever happens to anyone again.' We didn't know what to say, what to think... See, we wanted to hate the army, and everyone in it. But knowing there were men like your father and Crowley out there, decent people who truly wanted to make things right for everyone... It helped me make a decision."

Finally, Silvius looked straight down at Dalrus' face. "I decided I would become better. I would become so skilled I would be able to save everyone. I would never again follow orders blindly and let the people I loved die like that. It took me an irreplaceble loss to learn that lesson, Dalrus. But you... It seems that empty head of yours already has a lot more than mine did twenty years ago if you already know what's right and wrong. You should know this, boy. Every single life in this world has value. No matter who dies, someone is gonna miss them. Someone is going to be sad. Doesn't matter if just one or a thousand die at once. Only you are capable of deciding what's right and wrong. Only you can decide if your actions are going to save people or damn others. And that's what's so wonderful about being a rogue... Because we can be free to make that call. We are not mindless soldiers obbeying orders and doing as we are told. We can make a difference, for one person, or all of them. And each has the exact same value. Today... You made the right call. You let your brother go and live his life. He understood the risks... And he is willing to take them on. For the exact same reason you will one day do the exact same thing he is doing now. Do you understand what I'm saying, boy?"

To his surprise, Dalrus found he could speak. He didn't even realize when the poison wore off; probably a good while ago, but he was so enthralled by his uncle's tale he didn't realize it. "Then why... Did you say those things? Why did you try to manipulate Felrus and me like that?"

"Ah, well. I suppose that's what you could call a calculated risk. See, I needed to teach you this lesson. You needed to understand the pain of loss. You needed to understand what would happen if you failed. To be under pressure. To know that something worse than dying can happen to you. And now you do. So I trust from now on, you'll better understand the consequences of your actions... And the weight behind every single decision you make in this little life of yours." And with that, Silvius stood up. "If you really want to rise above the need of putting the ends before the means... Then become such a skilled rogue you will always be able to decide the means. A weak person has no right to complain about things they are powerless over. You can't just lower your head and hope everything will work your way. If you want things to go different... Then no one besides you can go and make a difference." Then, moments before vanishing into a small purple cloud, Dalrus heard his uncle say: "I'll see you again tomorrow at sunrise, boy."

Dalrus didn't know how long he remained there, laying on his back, staring up at the moon, mulling over his uncle's words. He thought of his brother, who was going out to fight in a war and protect a nation that wouldn't welcome him if he survived. He thought of his mother who sacrificed everything just to give birth to him. He thought of his father who swallowed down his pride and remained there to help take care of his family. And then there was he, Dalrus, a carefree boy who wanted nothing with life but to live lazily and without any worries.

And yet, despite that, when he looked into his brother's eyes, he knew he had to let him go. He realized Felrus was determined, he was ready to fight for something he truly believed in, so much he was willing to leave his family behind to enter a war that wasn't his. Even now Dalrus didn't fully understand what led him to save him instead of ratting his brother out... It was more like his body acted on it's own before his brain could register what he was doing. His instinct made the call before his rational mind. And now, he felt... Good? Like a weight had left his shoulders. He knew Felrus would never forgive him if he had truly betrayed his own brother like that.

"I guess in the end..." He said out loud to himself. "It's not really about how long you live. It's more about... Living a good life until then." Even if Felrus did end up dying... Dalrus doubted his brother would regret his decisions. And he was damn sure that if he had the choice, he would do it again.

"Bloody hells... Who am I to decide what's best for them?" He sat up and stretched his arms over his head. "If he goes and dies, that's his bloody problem. But I guess no one knows how to live our lives better than ourselves." Satisfied with his conclusion, Dalrus noticed the night sky was already starting to clear up, and let out a soft sigh. Dawn was already coming. He had been there alone with his thoughts for hours. The he remembered Silvius would be expecting him behind the manor to continue his training. "Bugger that, I'm gonna go have some fresh bread in town..." He muttered, rubbing his hands mischievously as his tongue already began to wet in anticipation for the warm meal. Maybe even get some coffee to help with his fatigue from a sleepless night.

He was already halfway down the road when he heard the screams.

Dalrus froze. He lowered his head, closed his eyes and cupped his hands behind his ears. Angry shouts could be heard faintly in the wind. Curious, he began to follow it's source. It became soon apparent they were coming from no less than the Greymane manor. Darius Crowley was standing there atop his horse, and a couple of guards had their swords crossed before the gate leading to the manor, barring Crowley's way.

His curiosity growing ever more, Dalrus stalked down along the hill, taking advantage that he was against the setting sun for some extra shade as he approached the he reached the bottom, he found a bush close to the base of a tree near the road as a hiding spot. He could now make out what the man was saying.

"...OF OUR PEOPLE! YOU HEAR ME, GREYMANE? OUR PATIENCE HAS REACHED IT'S LIMIT! NOW YOU EVEN SEND YOUR GUARDS CHASING CHILDREN DOWN THE STREET? WHAT'S NEXT? WILL WE NO LONGER BE ALLOWED TO LEAVE THE SAFETY OF OUR HOMES WITHOUT YOUR ROYAL PERMISSION? I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS TYRANNY ANY LONGER! THE ENEMY APPROACHES US WITH EACH DAY, AND YOU WOULD RATHER COWER BEHIND YOUR WALLS AND OPRESS YOUR OWN PEOPLE RATHER THAN PROTECT THEM!?" Darius was screaming at the top of his lungs - and quite the lungs were those. Dalrus suspected if the whole town wasn't sleeping that moment, they would all have heard Crowley's angry yells all the way from the square.

"That's it! Let me through, you damn pawns! I demand an audience with the king, and you have no right to barr me!" Crowley urged his horse onward, but the guards stood their ground, now pulling their rifles from over their shoulders. "Lord Godfrey has ordered us not to let the king be disturbed while they are having an audience, no exceptions! And if you try any longer, we're gonna hurl your holey corpse over the wall full of lead!" Came the retord from the guards, their rifles loaded and aimed straight at Crowley's chest. The man, however, was not intimidated. In fact, he seemed to calm down after that display. "So this is his answer." Were his cold words. "Time and again I have come, always hoping we could settle this through words. But now he refuses to see me, and goes as far as to threaten his own people." Tugging on his horse's saddle, Crowley turned around and began to throttle down the road. "Very well then. I am leaving. Tell Genn I am done relying on words."

Dalrus watched as the lord began to ride down the road, his expression solemn, yet hardened with grim determination. He was approaching Dalrus' hiding spot, so he lowered his head and remained silent. He could hear the hooves approach the tree slowly, untill suddenly, they stopped. Before he had time to react, Dalrus felt a huge hand tugging the back of his collar and raising him off the ground. He was then face to face with Lord Crowley, who apparently could easily support the child two feet off the ground with his arm strength alone. "Well, I remember you. You were the boy who was with Lorna that day last year, weren't you?" Dalrus half expected the man to be foaming from his mouth, but his demeanor was the perfect figure of calmness.

"Ah... That's right, sir. Name's Dalrus. Don't think we were ever properly intreduced!" Trying to act as casually as he could when he was hanging like pork on a hook, Dalrus offered his hand towards the lord along with his most charming smile.

Crowley looked at his hand, then his shameless smiling face, then threw his head back and burst out in laughter. Dalrus shook in the air as the noble howled in enjoyment, but soon he was focused on the boy again. "Aye. That's true, lad. I would love to call you over for tea sometime. I'm sure Lorna could make good use of a friend or two about now. Sadly, I don't think I'll be welcome here for much longer. As I'm sure you're well aware of, after all that eavesdropping." With an amused smile on his face, Crowley dropped Dalrus down on the floor. "Damn shame, too. Your father and I go way back. Would be nice to sit down and enjoy some good chin wagging. How is he these days?"

"Ah, you know." Dalrus said, wiping some dust off his shirt. "Same old, same old. Worrying over mother. Helping train Felrus. Blasting things left an' right." Dalrus then launched a look towards the manor to their left. "So, ah... I'm gonna take a wild guess and say you're probably thinking of joining that war out there."

The smile on Crowley's face froze, and slowly his expression returned to what it previously was. "And whatever gave you that idea, boy?"

"Well... I just got this feeling in my gut you and the king aren't really seeing eye to eye as of late." He said with a shrug. "I just assumed you're about to do something that will make him really upset. And I can't imagine anything Greymane would hate more than someone going off to join the war he went as far as to build a gigantic wall to keep us away from."

Sitting atop his horse, Crowley's expression was now one of curiosity. "Sharp as a whip, eh boy? Let me ask you this, then. What do you think we should do? You think we should listen to Genn and stay in our homes, relying on this wall to keep us safe for the rest of our careless lives?"

Dalrus opened his mouth, then hesitated. He took one more look towards the king's manor, then another one down the road that led to the city. He then looked up to the massive walls surrounding everything around them. "I think..." He began to say. "Folks should have the right to choose, at least. Of course some people will want to stay here away from harm. But if someone feels like something should be done about it... Well." He shrugged. "What right does anyone have to stop them?"

Darius seemed to be taken back by his response. He leaned his head to the side, and watched Dalrus with a whole new look. "Well. That's a great way of thinking, lad. And you know what?" The sun was now showing up over the wall, it's warm light spreading over the dark fields like a tide of light that was soon covering them both with's warmth. "I think you are absolutely right. We are not slaves. We all deserve the right to live freely... Make our own choices... And our own sacrifices." Dalrus felt the lord's hand resting upon his head and giving him a gentle pat. "Nice talking with you, son. Hurry home now. A boy your age shouldn't be out so late. People might think you're up to something you shouldn't." And with that, he led his horse away and resumed his throttle towards the gates. Dalrus wondered how was it that someone who so loudly opposed their king was even allowed to come and go as he pleased like that.


	4. Chapter 4 - Growing tensions

**Chapter 4 - Growing tensions**

Cold. Mind-numbing, bone chilling, shoul shattering cold. His very blood felt like it was freezing within his veins. His entire body shook. He felt like he had a lump in his throat, and his eyes were very wide as he tried his hardest just to breathe.

"You gotta hold your breath longer than that, boy." Were Silvius' disappointed words. "You think inhaling pure shadow energy is gonna be good for your body?"

Dalrus tried to speak, but he choked up and began to cough violently. His body still shook, and he had to curl up into a ball on the grass floor.

"Shake it off, it doesn't last very long. Just get some sunlight and you'll be better." Silvius said as he threw his hands in the air.

Doing as he were told, Dalrus twisted and crawled towards the warm, glowing patch of grass before him where the sunlight was filtering over the wall's edge. The effect was almost instantenous. Taking a deep breath, he began to steady himself, his fingers grasping the grass so hard he tore off patches. "Bloody hell... That was... Awful..."

"I'll say. But you actually didn't do so bad for your first time. I've seen people leave half of them in the shadow realm before stepping outside." They were, as usual, in their training camp. A full year had passed since Dalrus' brother left for the war, a time during which he had focused himself to training. He had become very happy to hear from his master today he would learn the Shadowstep - a technique through which he could slip through the shadow realm to move short distances almost instantenously. He had seen Silvius do it dozens of times before, and always thought being able to teleport like that would be the best thing ever. Now though, not so much.

"The shadow realm is a hostile place, boy. It will try to eat you alive. If you wanted something that would kiss your wounds better you should have trained to be a priest instead." Squatting down, Silvius offered his hand, which Dalrus gladly took as he, still shaking, stood up. "The Light protects, heals and smites the wicked. The shadows will happily eat from the inside out anything dumb enough to step into it's entrails."

"Then how the bloody hell you use it so easily!?" Dalrus grunted, the boy hunching and grabbing his knees for support.

"Simple. I don't give in to it. I don't let it take too strong a hold. That's why we step through it's realm for just a brief instant. With time and practice, you'll become immune to it's influence for that short span of time. You'll become accostumed to it. And then... You will learn how to wield and manipulate it as an element of it's own."

"Yeah, so you say... But what's the point? I see you make poisons that could melt someone inside out. And we can run, leap, climb, hide... What do we even need this hocus pocus for?" He had to stop every few words to catch his breath, and closed his eyes so he wouldn't go nauseous.

"That's a bloody stupid question. Physical skill can only take you so far. You wanna see the difference between someone like you, and a rogue who's mastered the shadows?" SIlvius launched the boy a wicked grin. "Come here, then. I suppose it's time I showed you."

Holding back a moan of discomfort, Dalrus straightened his back and followed his faster a few paces towards a nearby tree. Stopping by it, Silvius pulled one of his long, curved daggers out and offered the handle to Dalrus. "Here. Slice this tree down."

He just looked at the weapon, then at his master's face. "With this dagger? Are you bloody mental?"

Faster than his eyes could follow, the dagger vanished and Dalrus could feel the pommel smacking him on the head. "It's not about the dagger, you moron. It's what I'm going to do with it. Take a very close look..."

Dalrus watched as his master held the dagger like a sword with one hand, raised it over his head and brought the blade down against the tree's trunk. It managed to dig a couple inches in before it got stuck to the wood. "Woah. That's so impressive, master."

"Shut that bloody trap, boy. This was just so you could understand how amazing what I'm about to do is." After a few moments of struggling, Silvius pulled the dagger free. "Now pay very close attention. This is what it means to use the shadows for your weapons' sake." Once again, he took the stance, holding the dagger like a sword over this head. Except this time... Dalrus felt something. He could even see it. Those deep, dark and purple tendrils slipping down along his master's cloak and clothes. The sinister presence of the Shadow invading this world and finding a host to channel it's power through.

The dagger looked like it had grown three sizes, but in reality, it had been enveloped by an aura of darkness in the same shape as the blade. With a grunt, Silvius brought it down on the trunk and it cut clean through, slicing a huge chunk as it came down from the other side. All Dalrus saw was a black blur of motion, but suddenly the tree was toppling over. With a cry of alarm, he rolled out of the way as it fell down next to him.

"Bloody hell! What did you just do?" He said, amazed. With a cocky grin, Silvius stepped forward and sheathed his dagger. "I used the Shadow to empower my weapon, then attack the tree. This is the result when you become a competent rogue, boy. Did you seriously think we would fight warriors covered in ten tons of plate with tooth picks? No. By using the shadows, our weapons become deadly tools capable of slicing through virtually anything. They are as strong as you are capable of manipulating them. And that is just the tip of the possibilities."

Dalrus pondered for a moment, then lifted a brow at his master. "But what about the hold? Won't it try to get into your brain and drive you crazy?"

"You can bet your sorry arse it will. That's why you must be stronger. Never delve too deeply into the shadows, or it will consume you like a pack of angry hounds. That is why we only summon it to empower our weapons, cover us like a shroud and make us undetectable, and for very brief periods, slip through it's realm and reappear somewhere else. But the more you learn how to resist the whispers, to bend them to your will instead... The more powerful you'll be. I'm sure I don't need to tell you what happens if you try to pull more than you can hold, though."

"Crikey." A new shiver ran through his body, but this one had nothing to do with his earlier experience. "Alright, I think I got it. But... Can we, like, summon dark ropes, or drive people insane, or burn them with shadow flames, or something like that?"

Silvius stroked his chin pensively, then shrugged. "We sure as hell could. But it would take you about five years of practice and daily studies to learn even one of those things you just mentioned. And if we did that, we would neglect training our bodies. That's why you don't see mages wearing plate mail and war hammers, nor do you see warriors throwing fireballs and shooting arcane missiles. The ammount of effort you need to put into one path kind of makes the other impossible to master. And trust me, boy. Manipulating the Shadow is not something you can do while focusing on something else in the meantime... Like dodging sword blows. What we do is the best possible while also training our bodies."

"Bummer..." Dalrus sighed.

"If it makes you feel any better, you can rest assured you'll never see a shadow mage stepping through the Void the way we can. Magic wielders tend to be very confident on their ability to explode a person with a flick of a finger. They make it look easy, but that's just a ruse." Silvius leaned over, bringing him to eye level with his student. "Truth is, it takes all their focus to conjure even the simplest spells. I once noticed a warlock channeling the power to bring down a rain of fire down our platoon during the war. So I shadowstepped behind him and kicked him in the gut. He lost his focus, along with control over the spell and it fell down on his own troops instead." A mischievous grin was stretching the corners of his mouth now. "Mages are far from invincible, boy. They are what you'd call a glass canon. It sure is powerful, so long as no one is skilled enough to get close and smash it to pieces."

"If mages are glass cannons, what are rogues, then?" Dalrus inquiered, now feeling good enough to stand straight up without serious vertigo.

His master shot him a wink. "We are blades in the dark. Deadly when unseen... But if someone sheds their light on us... We are as good as a butter knife in a sword fight."

"Charming. So I better learn how to always stay in the dark, eh?" He took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Alright, I think I'm ready to try again. Let's..."

That moment, however, his words were cut off by the sound of franctic hooves thundering down along the road outside. Dalrus and his uncle traded a very quick glance before, without hesitation, they both sprinted down towards the source. They arrived just in time to see a trio of Gilneas guards escorting what appeared to be a knight with the Lordaeron symbol painted onto the shield on his back.

"How did he get in?" Dalrus said, amazed.

"Bugger if I know. But I'll bet whatever you like if they let an outsider in, this is going to be dire news. Let's go, boy." And with that, the two of them followed the horsemen as quickly as possible while remaining on foot and unseen. Before long, they arrived at the Greymane estate, where the rider was momentarily barred before being granted entrance. "Alright, if they are letting him see the king, this is very serious." Silvius commented, his hand rubbing his chin as he pondered.

"Yeah, well, not like we can go after him now. They wouldn't let us in anyway." Dalrus said with a sigh.

A curious glint appeared on Silvius' eyes. "Not necessarily. Remember what I said earlier, boy? About the ways you can manipulate the shadows?"

Dalrus immediately perked up and looked at his master. "I'm listening."

Silvius chuckled. "Channel it. Rather than entering it's realm, try and pull it down to ours. Just a bit. A very thin veil, around your entire body, like a cloak."

Dalrus nodded, and began to focus. He could feel the Shadow's hungry presence... And yearned for him. Wanted him to call upon it, to draw more. He hesitated.

"Ignore the thickest of it." Came his master's voice. "The darkest parts are the ones you need to avoid. Instead, look for what's around, hidden behind it. Those bits you can barely see and notice. Those are the ones you need to pull and cover yourself with."

Nodding once more, the boy redoubled his efforts. Now that his master had mentioned it, he did sense there was a very subtle presence behind the loudest parts of the Shadow that called out to him. Just as he said, it was barely there, like spider threads hidden by sunlight. Dalrus began to pull on that, and cover himself with it. He did not feel any different... Except for a somewhat smoky sensation wrapping around his body, as if he were walking over a chimney.

"Not bad, boy. Not bad at all. A little crude on the edges... Could use a little work. But for your first time, and what we need to do now... It will be great." Were Silvius' praising words, and when Dalrus opened his eyes, he could see his master with one hand on his chin, the other supporting his elbow as he nodded approvingly at the boy. "Take a look at yourself now."

Dalrus did. And he almost gasped.

His hands were... Barely there. He could see through his flesh as if he were a ghost, see the ground below. Looking down on his body, he could see that everything was like that; like the shade cast by a candle's flame.

"Alright, don't talk now. You don't want to break your focus. Your stealth is far from perfect, but it will be enough to slip past those guards. Stay close to me now." And with that, Silvius did the exact same thing as him, and hidden like that, the two began to stalk down towards the manor.

Silvius led Dalrus along the fields, telling him to keep his head lowered, his knees bent and his back arched. Just then the sun was covered by passing clouds, which provided further cover for the rogues.

Greymane's manor was on a very sheer cliff with a single road going up to the entrance. Dalrus and Silvius had seen the rider race up along it, and guards were positioned at key spots doing the same as them. "Alright, Dalrus. While the guards are distracted, slip by past them. Make no sounds. The key to stealth is not to attract attention to yourself. Have them think they are seeing what you want them to see."

Nodding silently, Dalrus continued to follow his master. They walked right past the first guard, who had his back to them as he looked up at the manor and watched the rider dismount by the entrance. The second guard was just the same. As they came halfway up the road, they could hear one of the guards who had escorted the rider scream: "A knight from Lordaeron brings a message of extreme importance! He must see the king at once!"

Silvius and Dalrus had now arrived at the end of the road, with an open path between them and the manor's doors. Two more guards were standing there, and it was clear they wouldn't be so easy to slip past by as the previous ones. Then, the doors slammed open, and Lord Godfrey came stomping out. "Who let this outsider in?! I care not where he comes from, the king himself has said that-"

"I did, Godfrey." One of the riders interrupted. Taking his helmet off, he revealed himself to be the prince Lyam Graymane. "This man brings a message of extreme importance. I have decided to let him in and speak to my father."

"You better have a good excuse this time, Lyam. It's one thing to try and stay in their good graces for the sake of our trades, but letting any rider who claims they have news in without asking one of the nobles about it..." Godfrey began to say, only to be cut off by Lyam once more. "You'll see when you hear what he has to say. Now step aside and come with us, Godfrey. I trust father is ready for us."

Godfrey scoffed. "Fine. Let's go in, then."

"Interesting." Silvius whispered, then tugged Dalrus by his shirt. While the guards were watching the group vanish through the door, the rogues circled around the manor until they were at the back. Through the windows, they could see Lyam, Godfrey and the rider moving up the stairs. Behind the manor was Greymane tower, a place from which the king could use a telescope to see the entirety of Gilneas. "Alright, boy. Be extra careful now."

Silvius managed to open a window, then quickly hop inside, soon followed by Dalrus. The two were now in the kitchen's storage. Silvius glued his ear to the door and, after a few moments, gave Dalrus a sign for them to walk out. It would still be a couple of hours before lunch time, so most of the servants were busy cleaning the manor or running little errands here and there. The rogues quickly caught up the the trio as they made their way up the long stairway towards Graymane's watch.

Finally, they arrived at the top of the tower. Silvius and Dalrus had to lay down under the entrance, each of them crouching down and focusing just on hearing the conversation.

"Lyam? What's going on? Who is this?" They could hear Graymane's voice from above.

"Father, a messenger from Lordaeron. He says he carries an urgent message for your ears alone. He was quite desperate about it's importance."

From their hiding spot, Dalrus could see the messenger's face. He noticed the man had traces of Gilnean lineage to him, given the shape of his jaw and his beard, which was currently bushed out and terribly kept. He reminded Dalrus of the man he had seen years ago pranting about the undead walking around Andorhall.

"My lord! I... I'm Phineas Peddington. My family, we... I'm sorry, my lord, we moved out when the wall began. Light help me, if only we... If I hadn't been so..." Dalrus saw the man cover his mouth and make hurling sounds, his eyes red and very wide.

"Compose yourself, man! Stand up and look at me. What happened? What has shaken you so? Speak!" Graymane's voice had a demanding tone to it, but even Dalrus could detect the worry.

"M-My lord... It's... It's... Lordaeron... The crown prince Arthas, he..." The man once again tried to speak, but in the middle of his sentence, he hurried off out of Dalrus' view. The rogues could hear the horrible noise of hurling far away from them.

"Mister Peddington, breath." This time Lyam was talking. "Take a deep breath. Compose yourself."

"The man has lost it." Came Godfrey's voice. "What's led him to abandon his family and come here alone? He's probably deserted from his troop and is desperate to hide in here."

"N-no... My lord, I swear... You must hear me!" Phineas was once again within Dalrus field of vision, and he could also see Lyam was helping support him.

"Do as Lyam said. Take a deep breath and compose yourself before starting your tale." Graymane could be seen by his telescope, his arms crossed over his chest. Godfrey was nowhere to be seen.

Phineas did as they suggested, and began to speak more calmly. "We received word... The prince... Crown prince Arthas... The king's son, he... About a year ago, he and a regiment of men left for Northrend to chase tge demon responsible for Stratholme."

"Aye. I heard that much. I still can't believe the lad would go so far..." Graymane sighed and rubbed his temple.

"Pah. If I knew my people were doomed to become shambling monstrosities, I would have done the same in his place. Best to die still a person than to become one of those abominations." Came Godfrey's voice from the other side. "So the prince returned. I take it he managed to kill the demon, then?"

"I-I heard as much, yes... Prince Arthas, we... We held a parade. Bells were ringing... Hundreds of people cheering... C-children calling out for him..." The man had another coughing fit. "He... He demanded to see his father. The king himself sent for him as well... I... I was a guard by the gates. I... I could see the throne room from my post, sir. Arthas, he... He was wielding a... A strange sword."

"Yes? What's so strange about it?" Godfrey interrupted.

Phineas shook his head. "I-I don't know. It didn't feel natural. I felt a chil just by looking at it. Mist was coming off the hilt, and... Runes were glowing along the blade. It looked... Ominous."

"I see... And what happened then?" Lyam asked, now helping Phineas get some support against the wall.

"Light help me, the king, he... He called out to his son. Arthas knelt down... He pulled out the sword... He... Then... By the Light, he...!" Phineas lowered his head and run his fingers through his hair in desperation.

"Out with it, man! What happened!?" Said Godfrey, although even Dalrus already had a terrible suspicion of what happened next.

Phines raised his head once more, and this time, tears could be seen on his eyes. "He... He stepped up to the throne. And then... The prince, Arthas, he... He ran his own father through with that cursed weapon! The prince, Arthas, murdered the king of Lordaeron on his own throne!"

Shock. Silence. Everyone in the room was absolutely stunned. "How can this be? Has his time in the north driven him insane?!" Graymane gasped.

"It has to... Because then, he... He pulled his hood back. The face... He... He didn't look alive anymore. His hair looked... D-dead... His eyes... So cold... So dark... A-and then... That's when... W-when..."

"Take it easy, Phineas. I know you're in shock." Lyam said, then looked at his fater. "Father, perhaps you could concede him your chair...?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Take a seat, son. Tell us everything." The sounds of a chair dragging along the wooden floor, then Phineas sitting on it. Then Godfrey spoke:

"Alright, continue your tale. The prince went insane and murdered his own father. What happened to him then? I assume he's been hanged already?"

Phineas shook his head. "No... No... He had guards... Now I know those things... They weren't human either, no sir. Their hands looked... Dry... Like a corpse. They began to kill everyone in the room... And then the screams began. Behind us... Me... Me and m-my mate looked back at the city... Oh, Light... I still remember the screams... The smell... Blood everywhere!" Phineas swallowed hard and gripped his arms as he began trembling. "Those monsters... Rotting corpses... Abominations that looked like people stitched together... Gigantic bats sweeping down from the sky, a-and... Spiders... Bigger than horses, they were... Just... Out of nowhere, they began to hunt down and kill everything and everyone in sight!"

Once again, they were all stunned in awe. Then Graymane broke the silence. "Light have mercy... How the hells did you escape with your life?"

"M-my mate, he... Together, we ran. We knew the palace well, we made our way out avoiding most of the monsters. We got ambushed a couple of times, b-but... Thank the Light, the small ones weren't hard to kill. Shambling monstrosities, just... Rotting skin and muscle and bones... But there were so many of them... We killed what we could and continued to run. Just as we were getting outside, I remembered... My wife, my daughter... They were still in the city. We had to go back. So my mate said... He pulled a key out of his neck and gave it to me. 'Go through the sewers.' He says. 'Good luck.' That was the last I saw of him... After that, I... I went back. And... I saw."

Phineas went silent once more, his hand covering his mouth. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled. "It was... The stuff of nightmares. So many... So many people... Dead... Lord, I fought the orcs, I did. They were savage, brutal... B-but... What those... Those... Things did... It was just... Inhuman. I saw... Guts, limbs, blood flowing like a river... T-they killed just for the sake of it. Women, children, animals, nothing was spared. But that ain't even the worse of it... I... As I walked, I saw... The mangled, bitten, chewed corpses came to life... People I saw every day, people I chatted with, people I knew from their first names, they... They just got up. Right back up. I ran for my life... I just... I couldn't bear to do anything to them..."

"Easy now. Try not to dwell on those details." Greymane patted Phineas on his shoulder. "Perhaps we should get you a warm drink before you finish your tale? You could use some rest as well." But Phineas violently shook his head. "No, no, no, no... I need to speak now... Or else I'll never... Never again, I..."

"Yes, yes, we get it. Then finish your tale already." Even Godfrey was leaning in worried now, trying to better listen to every word the man said.

"My lord, I... Somehow, I made it. Maybe the Light was watching over me, but I dodged it all. The blood, the deaths, the monsters... My family lived on the edges of town. I was just a guard, so that was all I could afford... We... I got home. That place looked... Like it was cleaned up already. Just a few monstrisities... E-even my neighbors. One of them, he... Gods, a man who I shared a drink with every week... He leapt at me, claws out, teeth bared... I... I reacted on instinct! I pulld my sword out... I beheaded him right then and there. I couldn't bear it...I dropped my sword and ran inside. It was... The door was in shambles. Something had broken in. There was blood on the floor... I ran upstairs. And there... I... Light help me, I saw here there... My... My wife."

No one spoke now, not even Godfrey. No one was sure they wanted to know what happened next, but almost as if in a daze, Phineas continued his tale.

"She was there... Curled up like an infant... Like she was crying. There was blood on her dress... She was holding something. I... Light save me, I heard _chewing._ I stepped forward... She looked back at me. There was... There was blood... In her mouth. There were... B-bits of... I-in her teeth. And then shu turned around. And there... There she was... There she was..." His voice began to break. "Our... O-our..." His breath was very heavy, the man heaving and shaking uncontrollably. "Light help me, she was only six years old... I was so happy when I heard the prince was back, I bought her a new doll... She... When the things came in, my wife, Theresa, she must have told Anne to hide in the attic. Then when they left... She must have come out, and her mother, she... She..."

"That's enough." Greymane cut him off. "You left that place, Phineas. That's all that matters. I take it you turned your back to that unspeakable hell and ran as fast as you could to the sewers as your fellow guard instructed you to, yes?"

Still shaking, the man nodded. "A-aye, my lord. He... I used the key. The gate was sealed when I got there... No monsters were inside. So I went in... I ran... Light, I ran so much... I just kept running until I fell. But down there I could still hear it... The echoes... The screams... The... The noises those things made when they... W-when they _fed_... The only thing I could think of was coming back home. The king... King Graymane must know. I must inform the kind... I must warn everyone before... B-before they..."

"I understand." Graymane interrupted him once more. "You perfermed your duty admirably, soldier. I won't ask anymore about this. For now, you need your rest. If you like, go speak to the apothecary. Lyam, go with him. Have the man drink something to help him rest... And avoid dreams." The prince nodded, then gently held Phineas up by his arm.

Dalrus' heart was drumming painfully within his chest. The whole tale had been so horrific he completely forgot to move out of Lyam's way as he and Phineas went down the stairs. Had Silvius not kicked the boy out of the way, the prince would have tripped over him. What happened instead was that Dalrus fell over the stair's edge and began to fall down to his death on the floor several feet below.

It happened so fast he didn't even have time to scream, but just as he could already see the grass in front of his face, he felt Silvius' arms wrap around his waist. This time, instinctively, Dalrus closed his eyes and held his breath, and he felt that terrible chill of the Shadow realm washing over his skin as Silvius safely shadowstepped to the ground a few paces away with the boy still in his arms.

"I don't think they noticed us." Silvius whispered as he looked up. Then Dalrus realized both him and his master were completely visible again. "Don't worry, boy. Leaving this place is a lot easier than entering. So much I can make up for your incompetence. Come on..."

As if in a daze, Dalrus felt himself get dragged along after his master. His body was on auto pilot now, performing tasks that years of training had made automatic. Before long, they were outside the manor, and Dalrus slumped against the tree by the road. He had been silent the whole time, his brows arched high, his eyes very wide and his heart on his throat.

"Dalrus. Look at me." He felt Silvius' hand shaking his shoulder and looked up. For a moment he thought he saw a glimmer of concern on his master's eyes, but soon he was scowling down on the boy again. "We need to tell your father. Come on now."

He got up, still deadly silent, his gaze fixed on the road before his feet. He had only taken a few steps forward before he managed to say: "Is... Was all that... True? Did... Did the prince really murder the king, then... Set the undead on his own people?"

Silvius did not stop, nor did he look back. "I don't know. Can't even imagine. I never met the brat. So I have no grounds to judge his character. But I can tell one thing for certain..." He sighed. "That man... He was telling the truth. Or at least he believed in every word he spoke."

Dalrus finally looked up. "Then... You think... Is Felrus-?"

Suddenly, Silvius turned around and took a step forward, quickly closing the distance between them. "I don't know, boy. You don't know, your father doesn't know, nobody could possibly know how he is right now. So it's pointless to worry about 'what if'. Maybe something did happen to him, maybe he's married a dwarf and moved to Khaz'Modan. It's pointless to wonder about what you have no way of knowing. And if you did know, that's even less reason to worry and walk around glooming like a zombie. Understood?"

Shocked, Dalrus took a step back. "I... I'm sorry. I just..." He began to say, then suddenly he grabbed his arms like Phineas had done earlier to try and stop his shaking. "I'm... Scared."

Silvius himself seemed taken aback by the boy's reaction. Taking in a deep breath, he slowly exhaled and gave Dalrus some space. "These are dark times, boy. Very dark times. If Lordaeron fell like this... It won't be long before the fight comes for Gilneas, too. That's why we need to ready ourselves for the storm ahead."

Dalrus looked up at him. "But... How do we even kill something that's already bloody dead?!"

"Well..." Silvius managed to flash a smile back at his nephew. "I have found detaching their heads off their necks is a very effective way of killing things that shouldn't be alive. Kind of an universal rule, really."

"Really... Huh. I'm sorry I lost it, I just..." Dalrus scratched the back of his head nervously as he looked away from Silvius' grinning face, who lat out a little chuckle at those words.

"I suppose it was my bad as well. You're still just a young green boy. You haven't even drawn your first blood yet, have you?" The rogue then turned away once more and resumed his march. "We are gonna have to take care of that real soon, boy. Better than leaving it to a time you have no choice."

Dalrus looked back once more at the Graymane estate that was quickly shrinking behind them as they made their way back. He couldn't help but fear for that uncertain future that was quickly approaching... And his own brother who was still out there, fighting this terrible battle.


	5. Chapter 5 - Unexpected return

_**Chapter 5**_ **-** _ **Unexpected return**_

"I don't like this one bit." Lord Kalthuz said once more as he and Dalrus finally exited the Greymane Estate.

"Me neither. I don't know why you dragged me into that boring meeting." Dalrus replied, his hands on his pockets as he looked back over his shoulder.

"If you used those eyes of yours for something besides eavesdropping, you'd notice every noble was there with his heir. Since your brother is indisposed, you have to fit in his shoes." Kalthuz placed his hand on top of his son's head. "You did a good job not complaining, at least. But things are looking very grim for us. And no word of him yet..."

Dalrus went silent for a few moments. The same thing had been going through him and his father's head ever since the news about Arthas had reached them. They hadn't received word about Felrus in weeks... And now, the undead were quickly approaching Gilneas itself.

Hours earlier, King Genn Greymane was hunching over a map of GIlneas. Dalrus could clearly see the entire kingdom there, a fair portion of it cut off by their famous wall.

"They approach from the north." Greymane had said. "Our scouts confirm there are thousands of them. Too many to properly count, and everything they kill in their path only adds to the army."

"What of the villages of Pyrewood and Amberhill?" Lyam had said. "They are isolated, the horde could pass through them!

"The mountains surrounding the villages give them protection enough." Godfrey countered. "Right now we need to worry more about the state of our city. We could be looking at a very long siege..."

Most of the details of that conversation were lost on Dalrus. Something about rations, state of the weaponry, who would be takin which shifts, and some archmage surviving Dalaran wanting to chat with the king.

That particular bit of news was still a bit hard for him to swallow. Dalaran. The capital of magic, the seat of the Kirin Tor - the world's most powerful archmages - was just... Gone. Apparently, after killing his own father, Arthas had been a very busy prince. He had slain Uther the Lightbringer, marched over to the elf capital, killed everything there, and ressurected the necromancer Kel'Thuzad. After that they had launched their attack on the mage city, butchered everyone and everything there, and opened a portal to unleash demons upon Azeroth. Meanwhile, an emmissary of some Jaina Proudmoore had come to Gilneas to give them a message - the surviving humans were gathering and preparing to depart to some foreign land to the west known only as 'Kalimdor'. Supposedly there the Alliance was to make it's final stand against the Burning Legion of demons infesting their realm.

And then there was that one conversation he had caught wind of on their way out...

Kalthuz had been busy discussing something with a bunch of other nobles while the King and the mage went off through some dark room in the back. Curious, Dalrus decided to follow them.

Stalking a king and an archmage was a lot easier than he had anticipated. Perhaps neither of them even considered the possibility of a teenager versed in manipulating the void following them down the hall to some dimly lit room Dalrus suspected would be the king's study. There was a single table in the center, with a few stools surrounding it. A book shelf could be seen behind it, and torches were providing a modicum of illumination.

"Well, Arugal?" Greymane had said. "You told me you had discovered something that could help us win this war. What is it?"

The archmage was clad in long dark robes, and a long cowl that hid most of his face, giving him an ominous appearance. "Yes, I have finally finished going through Ur's research." The man replied, giving the king a curt nod. "He's made mentions of some strange creatures that he discovered. Creatures that hail from a different, dark dimension. Half man, half wolves, and far more savage and deadlier than both. He's called them the 'Worgen'."

"Tell me more of them. How can we use these creatures?" Genn Greymane had said, leaning back against a wall and crossing his arms.

"There's not much to be said about them." Arugal confessed. "Other than they come from an unknown world that is not our own. Seems everything is far darker, more savage there. They developed in this realm and have unparalled ferocity and strength."

"Hmmmm... But can we use them?" The king asked impatiently.

"That... Is difficult to determine, my lord." The mage conceded. "They are very brutal. I could summon them from where they lay, but I can't say for sure I would be able to control them..."

"It is enough that we can set them loose upon our enemies." Greymane countered. "I hope to the Light it won't come to this, but should the worst come to pass, I want you ready to let loose those creatures upon the undead. With any luck they will end up wiping each other out."

"As you will, my lord."

His mind drifting back to reality, the boy sighed, then crossed his hands behind his head as he stretched. "He will be fine... And who knows. Maybe the king will summon an army of beasts from a different dimension and have them kill the undead for us."

His father launched a dubious look at him. "Wouldn't that be something. But life is never that easy, son." Kalthuz sighed. "We need to make our own preparations. I imagine Silvius has his hands full?"

"Like you wouldn't believe..." Dalrus scratched his head distractedly. His master had been absent lately, busy with sabotage missions to try and slow down the undead horde approaching the city walls. The saboteurs had tried anything in their arsenal; trap holes, explosives, rock slides, poison, anything. They reported many falls on the enemy side, but that did literally nothing to stop the army as a whole. They literally ignored their own fallen and continued to urge forward over their own corpses, led by acolytes in dark robes who worshipped the scourge and its demon lords. "Am I gonna have to fight too?"

"Light forbid, but I wouldn't deny the possibility. You need to be prepared in case something goes wrong." Kalthuz frowned. "I don't like this one bit, boy. I have this terrible feeling deep in my gut... At any rate, we should-"

Whatever they should do was forever unkown to Dalrus as Silvius suddenly popped into existance right before them. Literally, one moment they were walking down the stone road, the next there was a short, wrinkly-faced, hook-nosed man in a dark cloak standing right in front of them. Kalthuz let out a curse word Dalrus had never heard before and almost fell down.

"And I'm glad to see you too." Came the rogue's dry response. "Sorry for the delay, but I had some important business to take care of. And something I'm sure will make your day better."

"It damn well better be, damn it! You almost gave me a blasted heart attack!" Kalthuz took in a deep breath and scowled at his brother-in-law. "Well?"

"Not here, of course. Come on, back at the manor." And just like that, without uttering another word despite Kalthuz' protests, Silvius turned his back on them and made his way towards the Plaguefang estate.

With his father muttering under his breath almost the whole way, Dalrus walked as quickly as possible, his heart racing in his chest at the possibilities. As they arrived, Kalthuz move towards the front door, but Silvius said: "In the basement." And made his way around the house. The muttering even louder now, Kalthuz had no choice but to follow the man who simply refused to answer his questions as a curious Dalrus was quick to follow.

The large wooden doors towards the basement were unlocked, and it took the trio no time to make their way down. Wax candles affixed to the walls cast an eery light over the grain bags and the shelves full of quality gilnean wine. Still ignoring Kalthuz' questions, Silvius lead them down the hall where cleaning tools were kept. There, just besides the door, he pushed a certain stone tile and revealed the secret passage that lead directly below the manor.

His curiosity at it's peak, Dalrus eagerly went after his father and uncle into a pitch black corridor. It was only when the door closed behind them and they were surrouned by total darkness that Kalthuz finally spoke: "What's the situation at the front?"

Silvius sighed tiredly. "Not good. There's simply no end to them. You kill one. You kill ten. You set fifty on fire and a hundred more fall in pits full of spikes. Then once the pit is full of corpses, the rest simply walk over them and keep going. Each man that falls defending his home adds to their numbers. We are really gonna need a miracle to make it through this unscathed."

Kalthuz scoffed. "The king says the wall is impenetrable, our armies too mighty, our will unbreakable. I say the man can't wait to win this and prove everyone who thought it was stupid of him to seceed from the Alliance wrong. He basically intends to have everyone stay behind the wall and have them bash their heads against the wall untill they break."

"You don't say?" Silvius did not seem that surprised. "It does sound better than charging head first into a host of walking corpses. Anyway... You'll never guess who I came across along the way."

They finally made it to a room right on the back. Dalrus knew that room. His father had shown him and his brother when they were both much younger; it was a safe, secret room with enough supplies to last a week. Kalthuz had told him tht in case of dire emmergency, Dalrus was to take his mother there. Now, however, it seemed as if it were already in use. Light could be seen filtering under the large iron door, and a shadow was moving back and forth. Without hesitation, Kalthuz opened it and stepped aside.

WIthin the room, restlessly pacing back and forth, still wearing the very same armor as the day he had left, was Dalrus' brother.

"FELRUS!" The boy screamed as he dashed forward and spear-tackled his brother right in the chest. It felt like rushing into an iron pillar. Taken by surprise, Felrus barely had time to scream as they both fell heavily on the floor. "You bloody bastard, I've been worried sick about you! Where the hell have you been!?"

Kalthuz wasn't much slower than his son in making his way over to Felrus, the man kneeling down on the floor and wrapping his arm around the youth's neck. "BLast it, Silvius... You should have told me! Felrus, my son..." A happy smile stretching the corners of his worried face, Kalthuz leaned back to take a good look at his son. "Thank the Light, no scars to brag about. At least none in the face, that's the worst place, I tell you."

"Father... Brother... I..." Felrus seemed at a loss of words for a moment, then he wrapped his arms around Dalrus and Kalthuz' necks and pulled them in with surprising strength. "I'm so happy... I've missed you both so much..." Dalrus couldn't help but notice there was a certain edge to his brother's voice. No longer he spoke with that mechanical deference of a noble who had been raised and trained in etiquette... Now he spoke with a more... Easened tone. "How are you two? Dalrus, your training? Are you a rogue yet?"

"He's getting there." Silvius said before the boy could reply. He then turned to face Kalthuz. "We found him about to fail where we were trying oh so very hard to succeed the past few days. Apparently, he heard the host was coming back to Gilneas, and decided his place was home. He was trying to make a distraction, lead it away. Fortunatelly I was just in time to stop him from getting himself killed just so he could slow them down by about twenty seconds."

"I... I had to do something. Father... You wouldn't believe the things I've seen. These... Things..." Felrus slowly got up, then slumped over one of the chairs by the circular stone wall. "They are not human. They don't care what or why they kill. They just... Do it. It's their primary instinct. It's not about cruelty, or mercy. It's simply what they do, as bees get pollen and make honey. They are worse than crazed beasts. Gilneas is perfect for them. If they breach the gate, the whole city and it's inhabitants will be trapped with nowhere to run."

Kalthuz frowned. "I know that, son. We are doing all we can to prevent that from happening. How did you get in?"

Felrus looked over at Silvius. "He smuggled me in. Had me remove all my armor, then he did... Something... To make me unseeable. We slipped right past the gate, then he told me to wait here. Later he came back with my gear and told me he would get you."

"I'm amazed he was able to smuggle your loud arse in." Dalrus commented. "You're so noisy I could hear you from up there."

Felrus narrowed his eyes. "What, you expect plate to be sound proof?"

"Why exactly did you put that back on? I told you to take it off before we came in specifically because that's about the same as hitting pans together to draw attention." Silvius commented.

Felrus seemed to shrink a bit. "I was restless, alright? I got used to always wearing it. The people in my company got ambushed three times during the war, so I got used to always wearing the armor, even when I slept!"

"You were in a company?" Kalthuz said, surprised.

"Ah, well... Yes. During the first few weeks, I, ah... I joined a group who was investigating the plague. I helped them uncover some things..." Felrus suddenly looked awfully nervous. "It was... Well..."

"Why are you so nervous? What's wrong?" Kalthuz stood up and crossed his arms. "You better not tell me you joined a group of mercenaries!"

"No, of course not! Nothing like that!" Felrus was quick to say, though he still looked conflicted. It was Dalrus who first realized it.

"Wait... Fel... Were you with prince Arthas' entourage?" He inquired, crossing his arms in the exact same manner as his father.

His brother's silene was the only answer everyone needed.

"Felrus, tell me what happened. All of it." Kalthuz calmly said as he walked to the chair besides his son - there were four in total along the wall - and sat down, one hand resting upon the youth's shoulder encouragingly.

He took a few moments to gather his thoughts, then looked down and sighed deeply. "It was a couple days after I left GIlneas... I was heading north. That's when I came across them. It was a small band, led by a paladin... I didn't recognize him then. I told them I was from Gilneas, but decided my king was wrong to keep us from the war and I wanted to do my part. Most of them dismissed me, but... The prince, he said he would take any arms willing to defend his kingdom. So he let me join."

Felrus stopped for a moment, then opened his handss and stared down at his plated palms. "We marched for a few days. Apparently, we were supposed to meet the apprentice of a great mage. That was when... We met the first of them. It was a grannary. Empty, completely. Or so we thought. We went inside... The smell of carrion... We could smell it miles off. And what we found inside... Piles of contaminated grain. And just as we were about to leave and look for people... That's when the first one appeared."

Dalrus was still standing, cross-armed as he stared at his brother and listened intently to his tale. "It was like a nightmare. His face was in shambles, part of his cheek was missing, and I could see the bone below the rotting flesh. He attacked the prince, who just pummeled his head clean off with his hammer. Then came more. It looked like a woman and a youth about my age... A family. They were all infected, all undead... We began to investigate. We learned the grain was coming from Andorhall... And we headed there." Now, Felrus was clenching his fists. "It was... I can't even describe it. I was so scared... We arrived as fast as we could. The place was just... Almost every single villager, they... People just toppled over around us. Then they rose and dashed straight at us. We fought for our lives. The prince, he sent his mage friend to get help... She teleported off, and he told us we would fight for our lives until the cavalry arrived."

Felrus' eyes looked out of focus as he spoke. Dalrus could see he was staring not at his hands, but somehow through them. "I don't even know... I can't even wrap my mind around how long we stood there, fighting wave after wave of those... Things. The only thing I do remember is... The prince, he... His hammer was glowing. Like a beacon of light. With every swing, he sent scores of those things flying. He was like a bonfire, filling every last one of us with hope and strength. I doubt any of us would have survived if it weren't for his presence. And just as it felt all was lost... A trumpet sounded. We looked over a hill, and there he was. The paladin... Uther the Lightbringer. He was leading a charge of knights. Within moments, the undead were anihilated. We were saved. But... The prince, he..." Felrus closed his eyes. "I'm not sure what happened. He had words with the paladin, and then hurried off. We went after him. It took us a day to get there... Most of us didn't even sleep. We couldn't. We just marched or galloped until we got there..."

"Stratholme." Dalrus said after his brother had been silent for a few moments. Without uttering a word, Felrus nodded.

"Arthas... He said... Every person in that city was lost already. The same thing that had happened in Andorhal would happen there. He said... It would be a mercy. That if we were to save the people, we should... We had no choice, but to..."

"Felrus... No..." Kalthuz seemed to realize what where his son was getting at. "You didn't..."

The youth looked desperate. "I didn't want to! I... I knew it was wrong. I knew it would haunt me forever. Half of the men abandoned the prince right then and there. I didn't know what to think... Some said... They would rather die still a man than to be turned into those things. Others said there were still people who weren't infected. So I made a decision..." Felrus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I would go in... And I would save anyone I saw that wasn't infected. Father, you need to understand. The prince, he... He was mad with grief. He wasn't thinking straight. I would try and correct his wrong, someone had to!"

Kalthuz seemed to relax somewhat, but still, his gaze did not ease. "Then what happened?"

"We... We went in." Felrus lowered his head and run his fingers through his hair. "I just... I couldn't believe what happened next. There was a guard by the gate. The man smiled at us. He waves us, looked straight at the prince... His exact words were: 'Greetings, my lord.' He was just a guard, performing his duty, watching out for his people. And the prince, he... He did not hesitate. He pulled out his hammer... He smashed the man's chest. I'll never forget it... The look on his face as his prince killed him without mercy. The other men, they pulled out their swords, and went in." Felrus' hands were shaking now. "They just...Slaughtered them. Like animals. Not just the men... But the women, and the children too..."

Dalrus was reminded of the day he and Silvius had spied on Phineas' tale of how he watched the prince butcher his own father. It would seem Arthas was already a few screws loose in the head long before he got his magic sword.

"I tried to save them, I swear, I really did... I saw some men approaching a family who was screaming and barricading their doors. I saw a man wielding a pitch fork, trembling from head to toe stand outside with tears in his eyes. I stood in front of him, and told them this was madness, there was no way we could just kill everyone... Then the screams changed. I looked back. The windows in the house before us... They were red with blood. Then from inside came the man's family. They were already turned. The man began to scream as well... And right before my eyes, he, too, turned into one of them. I had to fight for my life, and soon, the streets were crawling with the undead. They fell out of windows, ran out of doors, some even fell out of trees... Everywhere, the people began to turn. That's when... That was when we saw it."

"What, something even worse than swarms of undead falling out of trees?" Dalrus said, legitimately amazed.

"It was... A demon. I have no doubt about it." Felrus looked up at Dalrus' eyes. "Enormous... As big as a small house. Horns came out of his head, and bat wings were on his back. He had claws... Long as sharp as swords, each one of them. He wore a green armor, and said his name was Mal'Ganis, and he was responsible for what was going on. He said he was in service of a Lich King... And he would take all those people to join his army. The prince, he... He just went on and on, killing everything that moved while we followed him behind and took care of the stragglers. It was horrible... It was truly hell..."

Kalthuz squeezed his shoulder. "You did what you could, son... I'm just glad you didn't kill any innocents before they turned into those things." Dalrus doubted those words would be much consolation for his brother, though.

"After it was... Done, we... The prince said he sailed for Northrend. That Mal'Ganis had escaped, and was hiding there. There were summons all over the kingdom... Any one willing to join was welcome the expedition."

Kalthuz was suddenly alarmed. "Tell me you didn't...!" But Felrus shook his head.

"I didn't have the courage... I had already seen enough horrors by the prince's side. I knew he was going down a dark road... I didn't join. That was when he... The paladin, Uther, he said there was a place for me in the Silver Hand if I was still willing to try and make a difference. He said Arthas was lost... That he was consumed by vengeance and hatred. He told me a good cause was pointless if done by the wrong motives. So I joined a garrison around the Tirisfal glades. We were to hold the line against any wandering undead. I spent a whole year there... It was a good place. I made friends there, and I was helping keep the path to Gilneas safe. I couldn't write to you, because I feared someone could intercept the letter... But I did get news from Gilneas every now and then. That was until..."

"Until Prince Arthas came back and Lordaeron fell." Silvius concluded. Felrus nodded.

"Yes... I... Was less shocked than most people around me. But the truly horrifying news were how afterwards, Arthas tracked down and killed Lord Uther... Then took the urn with his father's ashes. Not late after that the undead attacks got five times worse. We would get ambushed at night, and often we had to hold the lines by the ground. When the host came, our captain gave the order to evacuate... He said Gilneas did nothing for them in this war, and he would not sacrifice his men for it. Before they left, though, he gave me a horse, and told me if I still wanted to fight for my home, he would report me as missing in action and not as a defector. He said I was the one good Gilnean... Everyone said their farewells, then we parted ways. And now... Here I am."

"Bloody hell." Dalrus said, his brows arched high on his head. "So... What's he like? I mean, the crazy prince?"

Everyone in the room turned to face him.

"...What?! I'm curious! The man is responsible for this apocalypse, I wanna know what he is bloody like!"

"If you ignore the stupidty behind his insensitive words, he does have a point. Arthas is now one of our enemy commanders. It's not beyound reason to get more information on him." Silvius said as he slapped Dalrus across the back of his head.

Felrus hesitated for a moment. "The prince, he... There was something about him that just... Inspired confidence. We looked at him, and we saw... A savior. A man we could rely on. He looked like a natural born leader. Someone who would guide us through a path to save our families. Even in his darkest times, he never doubted himself. He was always sure whatever he did was the best and was willing to go through whatever lengths necessary to get it done."

"Charming fellow. No wonder he got people to help him kill daddy." Dalrus commented, which awarded him with another slap from Silvius.

"I'm just glad you're back home safely, son. Don't worry. Arthas will be stopped, this I promise you. Now let's take you upstairs, your mother will be overjoyed to see you safe and sound." Kalthuz helped his son get up, and together they began to make their way back through the tunnel.

As Kalthuz and Silvius silently discussed some of the details of Felrus' story, Dalrus wrapped one arm over his brother's shoulder and pulled him in close. "So, you met any ladies while out on your trip?"

Felrus launched Dalrus an incredulous look as if he had just grown elven ears. "What? Are you mad? I was fighting an undead plague!"

"That's no excuse, brother. Come on, you travelled all over the place. Surely you met a skirt or two that made you turn your head. Or could it be you're more interested in tight pants instead? There's not shame in that!"

The warrior snorted. "Sorry, but the constant fear of me and everyone around be being mangled to gory bits kept me distracted from such things."

"Bah, you're no fun. It's at times like those you need these distractions the most!" Dalrus closed his eyes and nodded as if he had just imparted words of great wisdom.

"What in the world has uncle Silvius been teaching you?" Felrus said, just as they reached the end of the tunnel. "Don't worry, big brother. You shall soon see what I've learned while you were away." Dalrus shot his brother a cocky grin, then patted him on the back. "It's good to have you back, that's for sure."

"Yeah..." Felrus squinted as the setting sun shone over him as they exited the basement. "It sure feels great to be back. Almost makes me forget we are about to be surrounded by thousands of blood thirsty walking corpses."

"And soon, thousands of bood thirsty worgen!" Dalrus happily said.

"What the bloody hell is a worgen?"


	6. Chapter 6 - Light and Shadow

_**Chapter 6 - Light and Shadow**_

Just as promised, the smell was the first thing that hit him. It made not just Dalrus, but several men older and more experienced than him cough, cover their noses, and there were even a couple belching over the edge of the wall.

Dalrus had seen rotting corpses before. A rat who lost a particularly vicious fight laying by a sewer entrance, newborn birds who fell down from their nests, and drawings of humans in bilology books. But never had he seen a real dead body before outside of a funeral - and even those looked like healthy people who had just reached the end of their lives. As he saw the horde approach, he was suddenly reminded of the descriptions he had heard before... Both from his brother, and that lone Lordaeron rider so long ago.

The undead horde looked more like a sea. Coming from both the north and the east, a living, moving sea, comprised of hundreds - thousands - of walking corpses moving and scrambling about. From where he was, they were little more than a thick mass of bodies he could not make many details of, but there were a few things he could discern; the ominous meat wagons - siege weapons designed to carry and hurl corpses - and flying creatures he had come to know as 'Gargoyles', winged monstrosities resembling bats with the ability to turn into stone. Not only that, but he could see hulking abominations, creatures made of several corpses stithced together, their stomachs hanging open with their ribs exposed to the air and acidic bile oozing out every now and then. And then, as they approached more and more, he could make out the blunt of the army.

To the west was the imposing figure of Shadowfang Keep, which was defended by Baron Silverlaine and his men. The keep had held rather well before the incoming onslaught, as the undead were clearly avoidind the place. Dalrus had heard that, as a vital strategic spot, the archmage Arugal himself, along with the surviving mages from Dalaran who had come with him were stated there. He could see there was a strange purple aura surrounding the place, and the undead seemed reluctant to come near it. In between the keep and the city was Pyrewood village, which had already been evacuated, as had Ambermill to the northeast.

There were just... So many of them. Some of them were little more than skeletons, with a few stray patches of armor hanging from their shambling limbs, some wielding weapons, others armed with nothing but their bony, sharp fingers. And then there were the ghouls, creatures who one day may have been human, elf, dwarf or even orc... But now they looked like the stuff of nightmares. Pieces of their flesh were clearly missing, exposing rotting, putrid muscles to the air. The vast majority didn't even have noses, and a very unsettling thing about them was they never blinked. Their yellow glowing eyes were all turned to the city, all hungry, all desperate to feed, to kill, to spread their contagion. And yet not even that was as bad as the cloud of stench hanging over them like a mist.

"So here they come." King Genn Greymane - who was then on the tower to the right of the gates, just below Dalrus - grunted, apparently doing his best to try and ignore the smell of carrion and rot. "ARCHERS! AT READY! SHOWER THEM DOWN AS SOON AS THEY COME WITHIN RANGE!" He screamed, and soon his lieautenants were carrying the orders over. Dalrus himself was hiding in one of the watch towers along the wall, as Silvius had instructed him to. He could still remember earlier that day when the older rogue had pulled him to the side to hush in private.

"Listen up, boy. I know your empty head and young stupidity will make you want to take a close look at this fight. I can only hope the smell alone will be enough to dissuade you, but if that is not enough, I doubt there are many people in this kingdom besides me who could truly stop you. So instead, I'm gonna try to give you something to settle for and hopefully that will be enough. See, there's this spot on one of the watch towers..."

Both Silvius and his father were on the ground level, along with Felrus. Dalrus had been told to stay still for the first day, as that would be the the worst of them. The undead would most likely launch a full frontal assault, and should that fail, only then they would resort to more subtle tactics. As things were, Dalrus was to stay back for the time being. And so there he was, watching the whole thing unravel from a vantage point at the front row.

Not many people reacted to Felrus' appearance. They were too busy worrying for their own survival to take a second look at someone they had heard was around but hadn't seen in well over a full year. Kalthuz had simply declared his son would join them on the front line and no one had the strength or the will to object. Dalrus could see their company from where he was, among the support pillars around the ceiling of the watch tower, as well as he could see the uneasy sentries below him. The men were squeezing their spears nervously, and more than one was sharing a bag full of wine with his mate. Many had already cocked their crossbows and polished their guns as well. The tension was even affecting the boy, who almost canceled his stealth.

Ever since their little adventure on Greymane's tower, Dalrus, along with Silvius, had been practicing his stealth every day. Silvius had told him Dalrus had to become used to the sensation to the point where he would be able to keep it up at all times, granted nothing too extreme that would break his concentration ocurred. At first Dalrus thought it would be an easy task, but then Silvius had told him Dalrus had barely covered himself in a thin layer of the shadows, which only made him 'more difficult to see'. Anyone who had a good pair of eyes and weren't stuck guarding the manor of a king in an isolated town that had no assassins would be able to see right through him. And so had began his training to reach true stealth, which is to say... Absolute invisibility.

At first Dalrus had been skeptical such a thing was even possible, until Silvius had quite simply, and literally, vanished in front of his eyes. He then heard his master speaking from the exact same spot he had been moments earlier. Surely enough, when Dalrus reached out, he could feel his master's cloak. Only it was completely invisible to him, no matter what angle the boy looked from. Only then he realized how far he still had to go.

Tugging into the shadows until he had vanished completely proved to be far harder than he could even imagine. If he used too little, his body would become merely transparent, but if he pulled too much, the void would threaten to consume his body and mind. It took him a full day to finally find out what the exact measure was, and then there was the issue of keeping it up. At first Dalrus could only hold his stealth for the blink of an eye, but as time went on and his master slapped him across the head, he slow but surely made progress. By the end of the month, he was able to spend almost an entire hour unseeable to all who did not know how to look for him. During that same time, Silvius had began to teach him how to harness the power of the Void to augment his weapons and fighting skills.

"See, boy, that's not something you can just do out of nowhere." Silvius had explained. "The Shadowstrike is a very advanced technique. You cover your weapon with the power of the Void, then strike at your foe in the blink of an eye."

"Wait, I thought I was using the Shadow?" The boy had stupidly asked, which earned him another slap from his uncle.

"It's the same bloody thing. I told you this before. The Void, the Shadow, the Darkness, whatever you call it, you're pulling your strength from this dark place that makes you stronger and wants to eat you and everyone you love alive. Now bloody focus on the lesson!"

Pulling that one particular trick off was proving much harder than Dalrus had anticipated. Silvius had told him that he was supposed to tug on the thickest, strongest tendrils of the Void to envelop his weapon and slash as quickly as he could. But simply summoning all that from thin air was a herculean task for him. There were brief moments where the purple tendrils appeared to be covering his body, but before he could focus it on his arm it was quickly gone and he was hunched over on the floor trembling uncontrollably. He then understood what Silvius had meant when he said there was no way he could learn to use the Shadows to drive people insane or throw shadow bolts. He couldn't even do something as simple as covering his weapon in shadow energy, much less focus it all in a sphere of energy and throw it at someone. It would, at the very least, be something he would need months of intense study to even learn how to do, and even more so to pull off. He could never be a proper rogue with a fit body while doing something like that.

After his fourth failure, Silvius sighed and squatted down by his nephew. "I feared something like this could happen... What are you so scared of, boy?"

Dalrus, who was by then on all fours on the floor with cold sweat trickling down his brow, looked up at his master. "Maybe of the infinite darkness whispering inside my head that it will swallow my still beating heart?"

Silvius chuckled. "Boy, do you even understand what the Void is?" Dalrus simply launched him a puzzled look as he remained shaking there. Silvius sighed once more. "If you didn't spend so much bloody time loitering and skipping classes, you would have a better understanding of what it is you're dealing with. Do you even remember your teacher's name?"

"Which... One..." He practically moaned, then managed to sit up and and grabbed his arms to try and stop his shaking.

Silvius clicked his tongue. "Stupid boy. Fine, it looks like I'm gonna need to be more drastic about your teachings." The rogue then grabbed Dalrus by the back of his hair and forced the boy to look up at his uncle's evily smirking face. "I'm giving you an ultimatum, boy. The king has a task for me. Apparently, there's an undead force coming this way. I'm going to be in and out of town and therefore won't be able to beat some sense into you as much as I'd like. So while I'm out, I'll be having someone else look over this particular aspect of your training. And I want to make one thing clear to you..." Slowly he closed the distance between their faces until their noses were practically touching. "She is not even half as lenient about a lazy boy as I am. So I reccomend you don't even think about pulling any tricks around her. And if you don't understand what in the world I've been trying to teach you by the time I'm back... I'm done wasting my time with someone who is not taking this seriously enough." And just like that, Silvius had let go of him, stood up straight and began whistling as he walked off of the court.

Few things in this world could make Dalrus truly take someone's threat seriously, but Silvius had spent many years earning his reputation for making them reality, even behind Dalrus' father's back. Poisoning was his number one favorite punishment, as there were many ways to leave marks on Dalrus that weren't visible. Sometimes he would drug Dalrus and laugh as the boy struggled to perform his training. Others he would cover a wall in dagger blades and order him to climb it without getting cut. He could even remember this one time where Silvius had cut Dalrus with a special concoction that had dogs chasing him wherever he went for two whole days. The boy never truly resented his uncle or thought of telling someone he was being poisoned, beaten, pushed over the adge and chased by wild animals, though; in the end, every single one of those experiences had made him stronger. Before long he could barely feel the effects of his uncle's numbing poison (which led him to move on to some far nastier stuff, much for Dalrus' dislike), he had actually learned how to skillfully move through dangerous (and potentially fatal) terrain unscatched, and even how to lose skilled trackers out for his limbs. So when Silvius told him someone far meaner would be his teacher for the day, the boy was fully expecting some mean old crone missing an eye and a hand with poisoned picks for teeth. The fact his first lesson would take place in the back of the town's church only helped strenghten this idea.

The sun was almost setting now, so, for once, he was ahead of schedule. The boy sighed, an apple being hurled up and down on his right hand, the other resting on his pocket as he leaned over a short brick wall and watched the soldiers marching back and forth among the streets. These days Gilneas had a far darker atmosphere. Word of the dark events taking place all over the kingdom had reached them. Many people barely left their homes, and there was a high tension in the air. The church was particularly full, many sermons lecturing how the Light would protect them from this profanity taking place over and over again.

Darkness always settled soon in Gilneas, as the sun would vanish over the edge of the wall and cast a long shadow all over the place. Lamps were already being lit, and the church bells began to ring, signaling the end of the sermon. A crowd of people flooded out of the church doors, followed by the very same priest whose name Dalrus never bothered learning and who performed his own birth. He was talking to a couple of old ladies who insistently offered him a small pouch, which he again and again refused to accept. Dalrus had become so enthralled by the little display he didn't even notice someone was behind him until a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around and a raspy, dry old voice said: "What you doin' here, boy? Sermon's already over!"

Dalrus almost screamed and fell back. Good heavens, it was almost exactly what he imagined. The crone before him had skin even more wrinkly than his uncle's, with her one functional eye glaring at him, the other one a milky white orb. Her nose was also far longer and even more crooked, giving her the appearance of a parrot. She was clad in long dark robes with a little cap covering her probably bald head. "I, uh... Sorry, lady. I'm here for my lessons. I'm Dalrus." He was quick to say, trying desperately not to say anything stupid to anger the lady who looked like she wanted to chomp a piece off of him. "Dalrus Plaguefang. You know, my uncle Silvius sent me? Said I should train here for the next few days?"

The woman just scoffed, her one good eye running up and down his figure. "You ain't gonna last ten minutes with that attitude. Come on, boy." And with that, and a grip as strong as iron cuffs, she grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him inside the church. They quickly passed through rows of seats that had been previously filled with people and down along the back. As they walked, Dalrus couldn't help but noticed that, for some reason, the sides of the church sported huge water pools. Odd.

They went down through the back, and still Dalrus was dragged off, now entering a dark stone corridor. He figured the priests and trainees would live there and they were headed to their quarters to do some boring book watching, but suddenly the woman took a sharp turn and led him to an, incredibly, even darker and colder corrider. There weren't even any torches there, the only source of light came from some grates along the wall - apparently they were underground now. Finally, they reached the end of the corridor, where a thick, old wooden door awaited them. Without any ceremony, the crone opened it, pushed Dalrus inside, saying: "Margaret, another one came in." She then left, shut the door off behind her and screamed from the other side: "I'll pick you up in two hours!"

"Wait, what?" Dalrus blinked in confusion as he stared at the sealed door he had just been pushed through. He reached for the knob, and found it was locked. "What the hell? What am I supposed to-"

"You must be Dalrus." Suddenly came what was possibly the sweetest and most melodic voice Dalrus had ever heard in his life from behind him. Slowly, the boy turned, and his mouth hung open in stunned silence.

The room was perfectly circular and very large, as much as the main hall back in his home. The walls were covered with shelves full of books, bottles with liquids of many different colours, vials, objects that appeared to by dried up corpses of animals, insect husks, amulets, religious symbols, and a bed could be seen on one side. To the far end of the room, opposite to where he had entered from, there was a large inclined desk, a single candle offering a reading light for the many scrolls spread over the old wood. But what had made him go absolutely mute was the woman sitting on the stool before the table and had turned around to greet him.

First of, it was the most stunningly gorgeous woman Dalrus had ever laid eyes upon. Her hair was long, silky blond that fell around her beautiful face and shoulders like curling vines. Her locks were glimmering even under that ghostly candle and moon light. Her chin was thin and angular, her cheeks high and well defined, her lips plump and red, and her eyes sported a dark make up around them that made the green orbs underneath all the more alluring. She was smiling brightly at him, her hands resting upon her lap. She wore a rather simple, long white dress, with purple details swirling along her sleeves and sides, all the way down to her skirt. A small amulet could be seen resting over her collar, a pattern Dalrus had never seen or even heard of before. It was oddly entrancing... Almost as much as what was laying right beneath it. "I am sister Margaret. Your uncle has told me much about you, sweetie. Please, come on in."

Almost as if in a dream, the boy readily stepped forward, his eyes glued to her fantastic figure. She let out a playful little giggle. "Do you have nothing to say, dear?" She inquired, her eyes half closing as her lips parted further in an amused smile, showing off her stunningly white teeth.

"Ah... Yes. I'm... Dal. Dalrus. Dalrus Plaguefang. Of house Plaguefang." He blinked a few times, still entranced by her beauty. He also took notice of how her dress was pressed against her curves in that dimly lit room. And oh boy, what curves...

"I already knew that, silly. You're the only one meant to visit me tonight. Come here." And with that, she turned back around and patted a second stool right next to her. It took him a few seconds before he realized he was supposed to go sit there. After reaching that epiphany, he quickly scrambled forward and sat down besides the priestess, now trying his best not to stare at her, and failing.

"Now, I understand you are attempting to peer into the dark, endless Void, but are having trouble with it. Is that true, dear?" She once again smiled down at him, her right hand holding a parch in front of her in place as her left one was drawing something Dalrus had absolutely no idea what it was because he was too busy staring at his teacher's beautiful face. "That is understandable. Not many can handle the pull, dearest. It has quite an effect on both your mind, and your body."

"Yes... It... Pulls... My body." He stated stupidly, now taking notice of a small mole just below her left eye. It was tiny and pitch black, barely a lump on her divine figure. Somehow it only added to her stunning beauty.

"Of course, love. I know all about that. Don't you worry, after we are done here, you will have a far deeper understanding of this matter!" She chimed happily, now hunching slightly over as she feverishly scribed something on the parchment. Again, Dalrus was too busy admiring her to take notice of what it was.

"Right... Right... Deep... Matter... Uh... So... Ah..." He blinked a few times and cleared his throat, realizing he should probably say something. "So, uhm... You're... I mean... You're different from what I thought you'd be." He finally managed to blurt out.

The priestess suddenly stopped and launched a very curious look towards him. "You don't say? Why, I hear that from so many people! I wonder why that is?" She launched him an angelical smile that made him want to smile stupidly right back at her. "Ah... Well... I guess... You know... Silvius is kind of scary..." He said without thinking much of it.

For some reason, this made the priestess laugh. And oh, did she laugh. She threw her head back as if she had heard the world's greatest joke. It really made him happy to know he had that effect on her, his juvenile mind not processing that should have been a red light. "Oh, sweetie, don't you worry... Your opinion of him will be much better once I'm through with you!" She happily stated, then turned back to her parchment and resumed her quick scribbling.

"Yeah... Haha... He... Wait, what?" FInally his brain managed to process what she had said, then furrowing his brows, he turned his head down to look at what she had been doing this whole time. It looked like a series of circles on the paper, with strange runes he couldn't make head nor toe adorning the edges. Just as he looked, Sister Margaret appeared to apply the final touches and say: "Done! Alright, honey. I hope you can last longer this time! The last boy Silvius sent me could barely survive one hour before he broke!"

"Uh... What?" Were Dalrus final words as the priestess blew softly on her finger and whispered a few words Dalrus couldn't understand but sent a chill down his spine. Her finger was covered in a swirling purple energy, and she proceeded to poke first the paper, then Dalrus' forehead. The paper's glyphs came to life, emanating a dark, purple glow and swirling like a maelstrom that literally pulled Dalrus' mind right out of his body. His body collapsed lifeless over the table, and darkness took over his entire vision.

 _Cold. Oh, that terribly familiar cold. He remembered it, but the scariest part was, it remembered him. He gazed down into the swirling dark abyss below... And the abyss gazed right back at him. It called to him. It urged him closer. Dalrus blinked. The abyss blinked back a thousand times, with huge eyes popping into existence all around him. "I... See... You..." Was the deep, terrible voice whispering within the depths of his mind._

 _He screamed. The darkness laughed. It enjoyed his fear, his panic, his hopelessness. "You are one with the void." The voice whispered. "Join us. Open your mind, and let madness consume you..."_

 _Amidst a vortex of swirling darkness, shadow tendrils reaching out for him from all sides, hundreds of eyes peering down on every aspect of his body as he fell infinitely, the only thing that the poor boy could think of saying as the voice whispered into his mind was: "BUGGER OFF, MATE!"_

And suddenly he opened his eyes. He took in a deep breath as if he were choking and sat up. He had been laying down on a bed. The priestess' bed. The woman seemed very shocked to see him there. "Oh, my goodness! I wasn't expecting you back so soon! Are you still sane, my dear?"

"What... In the... Bloody hells... Was _that_!?" He managed to gasp out amidst heavy breaths, his hand rubbing his neck as if he were being chocked. Cold sweat was trickling down his brow, and his entire body was shaking.

"Why, sweetie, that was the void!" Margaret happily said as if amusing a child who asked where the sun came from. "You see, dear, that portal I drew was designed to temporarily send your mind in there. Like jumping into a bottomless lake, I wanted to see how far you would go before swimming up. But I never expected you to resurface so fast!" She clapped her hands once excitedly. "How wonderful! And you seem to be in one piece, too! Yes, what a resounding success for our first session! I get a feeling you are very talented at this, dear."

"You... You sent me... You plunged my _mind_ into the bleedin' _void_!?" He practically squealed, his voice going high pitched for a moment. He cleared his throat and sat at the edge of her bed. "Are you bloody mental!? I could have... Died, or... Or, freaking worse!"

"Don't be silly, sweetie." Came her very calm reply. "Your body would be absolutely unharmed. At worst, the void would completely consume your mind and leave you a drooling vegetable for the rest of your days! Oh, but I would recover some of your sanity. Enough for you to eat and use the bathroom on your own, at the very least!"

Dalrus could simply stare at her dumbfounded. "You bloody psycho, what was even the point of that!?"

"Well, so you can have a better understanding of it, of course." Margaret placed her writing feather down on the ink bottle and turned around to face him as she had done earlier, her hands resting upon her lap. "Tell me, dear, do you know what teh Void itself is?"

Dalrus hesitated. "It's... Some kind of force, right? Like... The Light? Or something?"

Margaret sighed. "Yes, I was afraid of this. Come closer, dear."

Dalrus didn't move one inch and simply squinted down at her.

"Oh, I won't do it again this time! It's just easier to talk face to face!" She explained, launching him another angelical smile. Still, however, he did not move, only continued to squint at her. Sighing again, she said: "Oh, fine. I'll come over, then." She spent a few seconds noisily dragging her stool along the stone floor until she was right in front of him. "Alright, sweetie. Do you know what the Light is, then?"

"It's... I know it's a power that just... Exists." He furrowed his brows. "Paladins use it, and so do priests. It can heal and shield people, and hurt and burn the wicked. Or something like that."

Margaret once again sighed. "Well, you're not wrong. But that's just the popular knowledge of the uneducated. You see, darling, the Light is much, much more than you can even imagine. Where should I begin..." The woman crossed her legs, which lifted her skirt up to her knee. Dalrus could see she was wearing dark high heels, and her legs were complete and perfectly smooth. This only distracted him momentarily this time, however.

"Alright, honey." She began to speak. "Back then, I'm speaking thousands, hundreds of thousands of years back, longer than any creature can even count... The universe was filled with the Light. It is a primordial force of all things we could consider good. Life, warmth, perseverence, determination... It was a force of life itself. It was like an ocean, swirling and mending everything in it's waves. But... Can you guess what was in the spots the Light didn't fill up? Spots that were just left... Empty is it ebbed and flowed?"

Dalrus hesitated for a moment. "Well, I mean... Anywhere that doesn't have light, has... Darkness, I guess?"

Margaret smiled at him. "Exactly. By pure law of nature, literally anywhere the light didn't fill, there was an empty Void. And things began to stir in this void. See, while the light was warm and embracing and good, the Void was dark, cold, and, one might say, evil. The Void sought to spread it's reach among all that existed. This battle between Light and Darkness is believed to be what originated the known universe. That is what we know as the Twisting Nether came to be."

Dalrus blinked. "And why exactly are we trying to learn how to use and contrul and evil consuming force that wants to cover the entire universe?"

The priestess giggled. "Why, sweetie, evil is such a subjective word. The Void isn't exactly evil, it's simply performing as it is within it's nature. Like how bees collect honey, orcs wage war, dogs chase cats. The Light is something meant to protect and mend. It is virtue, to surpass our selfish desires and be used for the sake of others. But the Void is more akin to a survival instinct. It is the polar oposite of that notion. The Shadows hurt the body and the mind of others, feed on their negativity to enpower you. You could say the Light is like a shield, and the Void is like a terrible, hungry sword who feeds on the souls of others."

The boy blinked again. "And... Why exactly are we..." He began to say.

"That, dear, is a matter of personal choice. I mean, sure, you could easily embrace the Light as many others within this place have. They can save lives and guide others to salvation. But me, well..." She tugged a hair lock behind her ear. "During the first war, I came to realize that just relying on the Light to save us wouldn't do much good. Because you see, honey, the Light is a living thing. It has a mind and a will of it's own, and that will is expressed through creatures known as the naaru."

"Then what?" He lifted his brow at her, his trembling now stopped.

Margaret reached for the pendant over her chest and showed it to him. It looked like a bunch of glass shards floating around a main core. "The Na'aru, sweetie. Some say the are the origin of the Light itself. They are manifestations of the Light, beings who were molded and exist within it, and are capable of existing in our world. It was one of these that taught Uther the Lightbringer how to wield the light and give birth to the order of Paladins. They are the origin of this religion as well. Many belive the Na'aru will lead us to salvation."

Dalrus crossed his arms and leaned his head to the side. "And... Will they?"

"Oh, darling. I thought by now you would know better than to belive in the words of mystical beings made of primordial energy." She smiled down at him. "I say we shouldn't simply accept the divine words of any being, regardless what they are. We are free to choose our own paths in this life, dear. That is why I decided that, while all those around me embraced the Light and decided to be paragons of justice, I would peer into the Void and better understand this terrible power. You see, Dalrus, someone has to do something like this. There are always grim jobs that most people wouldn't want to take. Many prefer to bask in the warm light, but you and I know... They can only enjoy the light because of those who act in the shadows."

The boy went silent for a few moments, his head lowering in contemplation. "But... How can we even control something like this? I mean..." He looked up at her. "I could tell whatever was in there had no interested in helping me. It wanted to see me fail... To see me fall."

"Well, you're not wrong." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "The creatures that lurk in the void are always desperate to see you fall into their open maws. That is why you must be stronger than them. Your will to live must be stronger than theirs. I told you the Void is more akin to a survival instinct than anything else. It wants to eat, so it won't be eaten. That is why you have to muster such a strong will, it will learn that by sticking with you, it won't run any risks. Understand?"

"Uh..." He furrowed his brows. "Not really. Why does it even care? Why would it let me do something like that?"

"Goodness! You are awfully curious!" She clapped her hands excitedly. "Yes, this is wonderful! What an eager student you are! Oh, I am loving these questions! You and I could make so many breakthroughs together! But unfortunately, it is very late now. You should go home, sweetie. We can continue your lessons tomorrow!"

"Late? But I've only been here..." Dalrus' words were lost as he looked up at the grate close to the ceiling and saw the full moon shining down on them. How long had he been unconscious?

"It's fine, honey. I know you are curious, I can understand! Once you take a glimpse at the void, you just can't help but want more and more! Don't you worre, sweetheart. I will be sure to let you sink even deeper next time!" Sister Margaret smiled warmly at him as if she were offering him a joy ride in her carriege by the lake. "I can only imagine how excited you must be feeling!"

His hands on his pockets, his head low in contemplation, Dalrus found himself dragging his feet along the road. As of late, close to no one was seen around the streets, except for the occasional guard. The head priest on the cathedral had given him a parchment explaining why he was out so late - being instructed in the ways of the faith, or something like that - and granting him leave to go home. Not that he needed something like that when he could prowl around invisible to anyone's eye.

It was when he was reaching the outskirks of the city and approaching the road towards his manor that he saw her again. A girl accompanied by three mastiff pups was sitting by the road, idly petting one of the pups as she looked up at the full moon. He immediately recognized the face of Lorna Crowley.

Curious, the boy approached her, already working up a charming smile as he said: "Well, long time no see. Fancy seeing you here, Lorna!"

The girl suddenly jumped up to her feet, holding one puppy to her chest like a precious gem as she looked around very alarmed. "What? Who's there? Who said that? Show yourself!" She was wearing a simple white dress under a leather jacket, with a belt around her waist holding a few bags and a dagger.

Dalrus began to chuckle and was about to reply, thinking she was joking him around, when he remembered he was still covered in his stealth cloak. Deciding to take advantage of the situation, he slowly stalked closer, circling around her back so he could, as silently as a puma, walk to to her and whisper in her ear: "Boo!"

The girl let out a sharp yell and turned around, her fist swinging blindly at the space where his head had been a second ago. His reflexes allowed him to dodge the lucky blow, but the sudden movement broke his concentration, and his stealth broke. Grinning mischievously, the boy doubled over as he began laughing. "My gods, the look on your face! I didn't know you could scream like that, Lorna!" So busy he was laughing, he didn't realized she had walked up to him until her knee met his cheek. With a loud 'oof', Dalrus fell on his side, rubbing his face. "You bloody bugger! You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack!" She hissed, taking a moment to pick up the other two pups in her arms a scowl down at him.

Still rubbing his face, Dalrus got up and shook his head to clear his mind from the dazing blow. "Nice to see you again too, love. What are you doing in the city, then out this late?" He inquired, raising a brow at her.

Still frowning, Lorna resumed petting the dogs in her arms. "Father said I should stay here while the undead approach. He fears it's not safe within our lands anymore. At least the part that's outside of the wall."

"Ah, yes. Of course." These days, Gilneas had met a flood of refugees from the villages of Ambermill and Pyrewood. It would make sense Crowley would want his own daghter somewhere safe. "And how is your old man doing?"

The girl hesitated, then looked away from him, her hand idly rubbing one of the pups behind his ear. "He is... Father is busy. He's had words with the king... Nasty words. He says... That the time for talk is over. I'm not sure what he means by this, but... Whatever it is, I'm sure for now he's focusing on helping defend the city. Everyone back home is really frightened."

"I can imagine." Dalrus then reached out and began rubbing one of the puppies under it's chin, which made the tiny, wrinkly creature close its eyes and lift it's head at him. "And what about these little guys? Friends of yours?"

"Ah, yes. Father wanted me to bring them here while their parents are taken to battle." She furrowed her brows. "I'm not happy with this, but I know it's for the best. Father usually had me walk them at night, and the moon was so pretty tonight, so..."

"No need to explain anything, love. I can understand." Placing his hands on his pockets, he looked up at the glowing full moon that stood high up on the sky above them. "Sure is a complicated situation, eh? Got the dead marching from one side, demons from the other, everyone but us running off across the sea..."

Lorna went silent, her gaze shifting down at the mastiffs who were now yawning and wriggling around in her arms to try and get more comfortable. "Yes, well... Maybe if Greymane wasn't so pig headed, we wouldn't be in this bloody birdcage when all hell began to fall around us."

Dalrus shrugged. "Hey, even I thought it was a good idea at the time. Who could ever think that the dead would rise from their graves, the king of Lordaeron would be killed by his own son, and demon portals would open left and right? Seems like stuff got out of control pretty quick, wall or not."

"Well... Yes, I suppose." She grumpily conceded. "Still, at a time like this, we should be united... Not isolating ourselves even more from the world."

"The world is a bloody mess of a place, love." Dalrus scratched his head distractedly. "Everyone thinks what they are doing is the best for everyone. But no matter what decision you make, so long as it affects people other than you, someone will be unhappy, and someone will praise it as the best idea ever. That's just how people work."

Lorna launched him a curious look. "Well, aren't you the philosofer. Did your teacher tell you that?"

He shot her a cocky grin. "Nah. I just... Well. I may be young and sheltered, but even I can tell something like that. People should just live their lives rather than looking for someone to put the blame on and focus on doing what we must right now instead of thinking about how things should have been."

Finally, the girl smiled at him. "Aye, that doesn't sound too bad. Well, I need to get going. I don't wanna be caught out like this. Have a good one, eh?" Waving him farewell, Lorna turned around and began to walk down the road, the same way Dalrus had just come from.

"...Yeah." He said to himself once she was gone. Placing his hands on his pockets once again, he looked up at the full moon one last time just before a passing cloud shrouded it. "I'll sure as hell try, love."


	7. Chapter 7 - The siege of Gilneas

_**CHAPTER 7 - The siege of Gilneas.**_

His little flashback was suddenly interrupted by Genn Greymane's piercing yell from far below. "CANNONS READY!" Underneath him, Dalrus saw the soldiers scramble to load the ammunition into the cannons. The horde was much closer now, and it simply spread all the way up to the hills like a moving sea. His jaw hung open. More and more, infinitely, they just poured out from over the hills to the east. There was simply no limit to them. "TAKE AIM!" Came another yell, and Dalrus could see the men shifting the cannons some. "FIRE!" Came the final order. The soldiers brought a lighted fuse down upon the cannons, and with a deafening blast, their deadly projectiles were launched.

Thanks to his keen eyes, Dalrus could actually see the black balls of iron flying through the air at incredible speeds and blasting into the ground. He saw the undead be sent flying, most of them blasted to bits, others mortally dismembered, with dirty craters left behind from the blasts. All over that endless army of the Scourge were similar explosions ocurring, creating big holes in the undead ranks. But as soon as those holes were created, the undead behind them would scamper forward to take their place, and still they poured from over the hills, never ending, not even flinching as dozens, maybe hundreds of their ranks got blown into bits right before their eyes.

"AGAIN! RELOAD, AND FIRE AT WILL! LET HOT SMOLDERING IRON RAIN DOWN UPON THESE ABERRATIONS!" Greymane's voice once again echoed around them. Again and again, Dalrus saw the soldiers load the cannons and unleash their rain of death against the undead scourge. As they drew closer to the city walls, the supressive barrage grew more and more intense, until the creatures actually began to die - again - faster than they could advance. By now they were within range of the archers, gunners and arcanists as well. Dalrus saw one mage who was close to his hiding spot lift his hands up towards the sky, his eyes closed in deep concentration. Slowly, a gigantic fireball began to form over his hands. Dalrus watched aghast as the orb of flames grew to the approximate size of a grown man, then was hurled down towards the horde below. The ensuing explosion left a crater as large as house, with flaming undead scampering off to all directions. Taking a sweeping look around the field, Dalrus could see similar feats were ocurring left and right; ice shards fell from the sky like lances, impaling scores of the undead below. Projectiles of pure glowing arcane energy snaked through the air, seeking any target they could find to instantly vaporize the walking corpses upon contact.

 _'Bloody hell. How can there be any wars when either side has mages?'_ The boy thought, impressed. Walls of fire suddenly rose on he ground below the closest zombies that approached the walls, and for the first time, Dalrus saw them halt. Just like that, all at once, as if they were a single hive mind, they stopped where they stood. Many of them continued to fall from the magical onslaught raining all around them, not to mention the continuously fired cannon balls, arrows and bullets. _'Woah, did we win already? Are they gonna retreat?'_ He thought in amazement. His naive thoughts were soon interrupted when he heard high pitched howls coming from somewhere above, soon followed by the screams of men.

His blood going cold in his veins, Dalrus shifted a little, darting along the wooden beams that supported. Looking from a small gap among the brick walls, he managed to catch a glimpse of a thick grey blur swoop down from somewhere above and snatch one of the mages that stood along the wall. It only took him a moment to locate what it was, and when finally he focused his sight, his blood felt even colder within his body. It was one of the gigantic bat-like creatures - the gargoyles - who had dived down to grab one of the men, carry him high up in the air away from the wall, then dropped him on the fall below. Dalrus saw the man scream and flail in the air all the way down to the ground, where his body vanished among the mass of the undead. And he wasn't the only one. Left and right, men were trying to fend off the demonic beasts. Guns were shooting all over the place, people were screaming, and again and again those horrifying screeches echoed along the walls as another creature either got a kill or was killed.

As the ranged defenders got busy with the aerial assault, the host below resumed it's forward march. With the supressive barrage of gunfire and magic slowing down, they were able to advance, gaining more and more ground towards the thick, enormous Wall of Greymane. The first few creatures were already reaching it now, although Dalrus couldn't see them from where he was. Biting on his lower lip, he looked to the side, then somehow managed to hold back a scream when something very large and heavy landed right on top of the tower he was currently hiding on. That distraction almost had him break his stealth, but as the soldiers looked up in worry, he remained completely still and mantained the dark veil covering him. Then they all heard the creature that landed on them crawl towards the edge and leap off. Dalrus saw tiles fall down to the side, and a Gargoyle get impaled by a bolt the size of a lamp post right across the chest.

Then, a trumpet sounded. A voice Dalrus had on numerous times before heard screaming at this very same volume came from below. "MEN! TAKE AIM!" The guards underneath were so busy loading up cannons and firing upon the gargoyles and the undead host below, they probably wouldn't notice Dalrus even if he wasn't stealthed. He hopped down from his spot and slowly made his way down, curiously peering over one of the windows along the walls. Surely enough, it was Lord Darius Crowley who was comandeering a squad of sharp shooters armed with dwarven rifles to shoot the monsters down from the sky. The bats screeched even more, many attempting to strike at Crowley's men, but the suppressive fire was just too strong. Soon they had to retreat, much to the joy of the men, who began to cheer. Those cheers were suddenly cut short when the most absolutely horrific thing Dalrus had ever seen in his life emerged from over the edge of the wall, snatched a solider up in the air and tore him in half with it's claws.

Dalrus had never been scared, afraid or icky about spiders. He actually thought the little critters to be kind of cool - eight legs, bulding webs, catching mosquitoes and other annoying bugs, and even appreciated how some were very poisonous. But the creatures that now were climbing over the edge of the wall would make even the bravest hero falter. Those spiders were about four meters tall, their black, lidless eyes hungrily searching for their prey. They possessed torsos and arms like a person, though their hideous head was still that of a spider, venom dripping from it's fangs. Their lower half was also that of a spider, with six long limbs ending in sharp claws. Dalrus could see the creature sported several scars and stitched parts. It was at that moment that Dalrus realized the curse of undeath wasn't reserved to humans alone; any kind of creature or mosntrosity could rise to join the ranks of the Scourge. Later on, he would discover those creatures were called 'Nerubians', but then and there all he could do was stare open mouthed as the creature proceeded to swiped down at a second soldier, it's vicious claws tearing his arm clean off. Dalrus saw the limb fly high in the air, blood spraying to all sides like crimson rain as the man screamed in agony. It was no other than Crowley himself who, with a savage war shout, leapt forward, his sword held in both hands and slashing down at the creature's face. The blade sliced through it's chitinous, exoskeletal skull with ease, carving it in half. Purple rotting guts leaked out of the wound, but still the monster wasn't fully defeated; it's body trashed madly, now with only half it's face in place and attempting to kill Crowley. The noble man rolled underneath it's swiping arms, ending up below the arachnid torso and in between it's many legs. Slicing upwards, he cut the creature's belly open as he dashed out of harm's way. The nerubian let out one last gurgled shriek as it died and collapsed, now truly lifeless. The men had no time to celebrate; all over the wall, similar things were ocurring. Those gigantic, monstrous spiders who managed to climb the wall, some carrying smaller undead soldiers on their backs were attacking the defenders left and right. Breaking out of his daze, Dalrus quickly ran down the tower's steps and arrived at the wall itself. As quickly as he could, he ran over the edge and felt his heart skip a beat.

How many of those nightmarish creatures were climbing the wall towards them? A hundred? More? All over the wall's extension he could see the nerubians climbing, their lifeless eyes fixed at their destination. Dozens of them fell before they could make it, the defenders now dropping flaming tar over the edge to burn the creatures along with whatever was unfortunate enough to be below with them. But the scariest part wasn't even that... It was the sight of that infinite horde of undead clawing at the wall's enormously thick bricks and staring up at Gilneans with their endless hunger and glowing yellow eyes. So shocked he was by this, he did not even notice the first projectile that flew a few meters to his right. He did notice the one that slammed straight against the tower just next to him, though. Looking up in shock, he saw gory bits falling down to the ground below. He then took a closer look at the horrifying horizon before him, and saw over ten similar projectiles arcing in the air and flying towards them. Upon closer inspection, he realized, with horror, those were actually mortal remains; torsos, heads, limbs, organ, all still covered in blood and many with carrion swarms buzzing around. Dalrus was then reminded of the meat wagons, the undead Scourge's siege weapons. He just couldn't truly belive such an unthinkably grotesque idea would ever be put into practice.

"I'M HEADED TO THE EAST SIDE!" Crowley shouted. "HANDLE THIS AREA, DON'T LET A SINGLE ONE OF THOSE MONSTERS BREAK THROUGH, OR THE POPULATION WILL BE IN DANGER!" Taking over half the men from his squad, Crowley ran as quickly as he could along the wall to where the fighting was the thickest. Dalrus simply stood there, dumbfolded, not knowing what to do. Looking around, he saw that there was blood all over the floor. Much, much blood. Most of it belonging to the nerubians or the gargoyles - as he could tell from the purple and green colorations - but there was also the red blood of the living... Not to mention mortal remains. He could see entrails, limbs, even corpses her and there. Those were uncerimoniously kicked or pushed aside by the soldiers who continued to shoot their arrows, bullets and cannons at the enemies below.

Dalrus then looked back over his shoulder. Between the city and the walls were the Northgate woods, with a small bridge leading into the cathedral square. The streets should be deserted, but he knew there would be scores of people within the cathedral, possibly filling it to the absolute limit. Guards had already barricaded some streets in case things went south, and many cannons were pointing towards the gates, just to make sure. In the forrests between the wall and the city was the main force of the Gilnean army; hundreds of soldiers, knights, hunters and mages. All those who couldn't remain on top of the wall with the artillery were waiting on the ground for the moment they would be unleashed to engage the undead army on ground battle. The gigantic doors were being relentlessly pushed by the undead below, but so far, it was holding just fine. Perhaps the wall really was impenetrable after all.

"The creatures are forcing the gates! They bring siege weapons, and have summoned a colossus!" A sentry shouted, and Dalrus once more looked over the front of the wall. What he saw made his jaw drop.

Of course he had heard of giants before - who hadn't? Just as dwarves were short, giants were tall. But he never imagined he would see a creature as colossal as the one who slowly dragged it's gigantic feet towards the front gate. He couldn't even imagine where it had come from, as he was sure it was nowhere to be seen moments earlier. The creature was huge enough it would have to duck to pass through Gilneas' main gates. Many parts of its skull were exposed, it's dead hair strands clinging on to the bases. It's jaw was hanging open as if broken, and many, many teeth were missing, along with it's nose. One arm was slightly bent as if it were injured and the colossus was holding it against it's body, the other was hanging limp by the side. Almost all of it's ribs were showing, and it had absolutely no flesh between it's spine and the enormous belt that supported a torn, rotting loincloth. Dalrus wondered why an undead would wear clothes, then realized that was probably how the colossus was buried. He could also see many meat wagons following close by in it's wake, hurling their missiles at the walls but mostly focusing on the gates.

Now that they knew what to expect, countering the nerubians was proving to be far easier. Many creatures were knocked down with cannon balls dropped right on top of them, others with well aimed spears, some with magic. Very few actually made it to the top now, and those were quickly overpowered by the many defenders, who surrounded the monsters and attacked with long lances.

The colossus was now right before the gates. The hulking monstrosity began to lift its arms, clerly preparing to ram straight against it.

"ARTILLERY! BRING THAT THING DOWN!" Greymane ordered, and surely enough, a barrage of cannonfire flew at the giant. It staggered for a moment, one of it's arms attempting to protect it's face. More arcane missiles were being launched by the mages, those focusing more on the creature's ankles and feet. Before long, it was pushed back, one of it's legs giving away. The colossus let out an ear piercing roar as it collapsed on top of the undead behind it, crushing scores of them. It was then that horns were sounded from the west.

Looking to that direction, Dalrus noticed there were ships coming into visibility. The wall extended all the way to the sea, and on that side, the Gilnean navy was gathered. They had anticipated an attack from water, but now there were a few Gilnean ships approaching the shore. Their cannons began to assault the Scourge army from their flank, inflicting heavy losses. They were out of reach of the enemy's archers, and approaching the beach was suicide thanks to the supressive fire coming from the wall, and now from the sea as well.

Looking over twards the horizon, Dalrus could see that a large host of the undead was also attempting to storm Shadow Fang Keep without much success. The narrow passage effectively made their large numbers absolutely meaningless. Any aerial assault upon the place was out of the question, as scores of ballistae were doing a fine job at keeping the gargoyles at bay. Looking back down, Dalrus saw that the combined onslaught from above the wall and the sea was finally having the desired effect; the undead were being pushed back. Slowly, the front lines were decimated, until the small lake separating Pyrewood Village from the wall became visible. It was at this point that the undead became out of reach for the defenders cannonfire. There, the host stopped, and remained still, staring at the many defenders who shouted and waved their arms defiantly.

Then, some movement... From behind the undead ranks, began to come forth a new artifact of war. It was a carriage with long spiky horns on it's wells. Bony shields could be seen along it's extension, and a large ebony pole with a demonic head engrave on it's tip was visible at the front. The undead was now bringing out battering rams, which were being guarded by several of the abominations - enormously tall undead composed by several corpses grotesquely stitched together.

"THEY BRING FORTIFIED WEAPONS WITH ESCORTS!" The sentries informed. "OUR CANNONS WILL NOT BE ENOUGH!"

It was by then that Genn Greymane came riding from the east side of the wall, along with Darius Crowley and many other noble generals. The men assessed the situation with grim looks. "Even if we focused our fire upon it... Look at how many they bring. Supressive fire won't be sufficient anymore." Said the king. "Aye." Darius Crowley concurred. "Their first tactic was to try and storm us with their numbers. Now they are starting to get smart. We are gonna have to go down and hold them off ourselves."

The next few minutes were filled with shouts and chaos. The main Gilnean armies got into proper position, forming ranks. Dalrus could see the heavily armored soldiers at the front, their shields and swords at ready, while the more fragile mages and healers were all at the back line. Dalrus saw that the king was riding his horse back and forth before his host. "Get ready, men! We shall drive these monsters back!" He was shouting, his sword drawn and aiming at the sky. "They knock on our doors, wishing to destroy our home! Show them our will, our spirit, our power! Today, we fight for our land! For our families, our people, our very survival!" The army cheered at their king, who turned around to face the gates. "NOW! OPEN THE GATES! KILL THEM ALL! FOR GILNEAS!" Before his command, the gigantic gates slowly opened. Dalrus could only imagine what that undead army was like from floor level. The battering rams, along with their escorts and many smaller token troops were once more advancing through the fields. The mages began to shower them down with their destructive magic, but this time, their spells began to bash against green shells of dark energy surrounding the siege weapons. "THEY HAVE WARLOCKS! OUR SPELLS ARE INNEFECTIVE!" A mage declared, and Dalrus began to bite on his lower lip nervously. His father and brother were both probably down there, ready to charge against the enemy and meet them head on before the gates to their city.

The gates were now partially open, and with a mighty war cry, King Genn Greymane led the charge outside, closely followed by his royal guard, all on horse back. The main Gilnean army was close behind, all rushing to exit the gates as quickly as possible so they wouldn't remain open for long. The undead had crossed half the distance back towards the wall by the time the defenders began to form defensive lines on that large open field surrounded by mountains and trees. They held their ground, a sea of humans clad in heavy plate armor preparing to face off the invaders.

The first few undead made it them. Dalrus saw the defenders quickly dispatch the shambling monstrosities, those lower ranking zombies who only succeeded thanks to their large numbers. The Gilnean army held their lines before those weaker waves, but finally the first siege weapons began to approach the main army. Dalrus saw one abomination lift a huge deformed arm over it's igly head and hurl a butcher's hook as big as Dalrus himself forward. The deadly projectile flew straight forward, cutting through no less than two people before smashing a third one behind. The abomination then pulled the hook, which was attached to a chain, and dragged the mangled corpses towards it. It then proceeded to load the corpses onto a meat wagon, which in turn hurled them against the soldiers. There were many screams and chaos soon ensued. The undead took this oportunity to strike at the front line.

Now that they were close together, Dalrus could really see just how huge those abominations were. The creatures had to be around three meters in height, which was further enhanced by their deformed, fat bodies. From their open stomachs, acidic bile was constantly pouring through, and occasionaly the boy could see a green cloud of what he could only assume was toxic gas emanating from them. The creatures were quite resilient, on top of everything. It took many cuts and blows to fell even one. The shape of their bodies made it very hard to pinpoint a vital spot, even more so to strike it. The best most could hope for was to slowly chop it to bits until it became unresponsive, then move on to the next one.

The battering rams were nigh unstopabble death machines. They literally kept on rolling forward, their spiked wheels slicing down anyone foolish enough to stand in it's path. Now Dalrus could see they were also covered in spikes, which made the task of stopping them all the harder. Upon closer inspection, those were actually human bones sticking out from all over their surface, each one sharpened into a deadly weapon to those who approached.

It was Darius Crowley who conquered the first victory. The noble lord rallied his personal squad and, together, they surrounded one of the weapons. As a pair of men clad in heavy plate armor, equipped with shields and maces stepped forward and attracted the attention of the abominations, the rifle men and mages focused their fire upon the weapons themselves, slowly whittling them down from a distance. Eventually, the monstrosities were brought down, and finally, by their conjoined effort, the first of the siege weapon was set ablaze and destroyed. Taking notice of this strategy, Greymane issued his orders, and soon several smaller squads formed along the Gilnean ranks, all acting in similar fashion to destroy the rams.

The battle lasted until the sun began to set on the horizon. Still the defenders were out there on the field, risking their lives to push back whatever weapons or undead monstrosities the scourge had to unleash. However, once darkness began to show upon the horizon, Greymane gave the order to retreat. Dalrus felt a chill run down on his spine for a moment, but suddenly, all around him, a thin purple veil spread out until it was stretching about a full kilometer before the city walls. The defenders slowly retreated, and the undead gave chase. Dalrus could see that as they entered the field, the undead began to topple over, their flesh rotting much faster until they turned into bony remains, then dust against the floor. It took a while before the barrier took full effect, of course, but it was more than enough to weaken the enemies to the point where the Gilneans could make a safe retreat without any losses. The barrier closed behind them, and that force field endured. More undead came forward, but thanks to the barrier, by the time they got even close to the walls, arrows and guns were more than enough to dispatch them. The weaker ones couldn't even make it halfway, only the more resilient ones like the abominations or the nerubians could go far before they collapsed.

The boy could hear Greymane speaking below. "Today, we have won our first victory! But do not grow complacent! This barrier is a weaker version of the one used to defend Dalaran from that traitor prince! Archamage Arugal said it would take much of his power to hold it during the night, when we are most vulnerable! Stand watch over the walls and get ready for ambushes! The rest of you, recover your energy for the battles to come!"

Dalrus let out a long sigh and leaned back against the wall. He could see the soldiers clambering back and forth, dragging the corpses of the fallen or carrying their injured towards medical bays. Today, for the first time, that wall had successfuly performed it's role in keeping it's denizens safe, the boy thought with a bitter smile. He ran a hand along his forhead and realized he was sweating and trembling. He closed his eyes and took a few moments to recompose himself before finally getting up and starting to make his way down from the wall through the watch tower. As he did so, he saw more injured and dead men being carried. It was difficult to keep his stealth through all that misery, but as he slowly sneaked his way through the busy soldiers and healers, his mind drifted back to the second day of his training with his new master.


	8. Chapter 8 - The call of the Void

_Chapter 8 - The call of the Void_

"Alright, just to be clear tonight." Dalrus said as soon as the door closed behind him once more. "No 'exposing me to the abyss' tonight, alright? I don't think I'm mentally prepared to go back there just yet."

Sister Margaret pouted sadly at him, which almot made his heart ache. "Darling, how do you expect to comprehend the Void if you don't peer into it? You need to understand your power before you can fully use it's full potential!"

"Yeah, yeah, I get that..." Dalrus took in a deep breath and, in order to help him gather his courage, closed his eyes so he wouldn't look at her as he spoke. "But let's leave that more... Practical application for another day, alright? How about tonight we just do a good old Q and A?"

The priestess tapped her chin pensively. "Hmmmm, I suppose that would be fine as well. You did have a lot of interesting questions yesterday. Very well, dear. Come closer and I'll do my best to sate your curiosity over the Void!"

Half opening one eye, Dalrus swallowed dryly. If possible, she looked even more impossibly beautiful tonight, as she wore a pair of square, red glasses over her eyes and held a very large - and possibly older than he was - book. Slowly he approached her, trying not to look at her face. "So, I've been thinking..." He fixed his eyes upon one of the jars on the shelves along the walls, one filled with a red liquid and a spherical dark object floating inside. "Why is it this Void even allow us to use it's power? And if it's trying to devour us like this, why do we keep trying? I mean... Isn't it inevitable that sooner or later we will succumb?"

There was a very amused smile upon Margaret's face as she closed the book - taking a moment to fold the tip of her current page first - and placed it upon the table behind her. "My, my. Curious questions indeed. Most people don't even care about details such as these. All they can think of is using the darkness to kill their heated foes! That you would think in this manner is no doubt why you made it so far in the first place."

The boy blinked a few times at that. "Uh... Thank you?" He was now standing right in front of her, his gaze now fixed onto another jar. This one had what looked to be a living white spider inside a green fluid, it's long legs skittering occasionaly. "But... You mean people just dive head in on this thing without even taking a moment to see what it is?"

"You would be surprised!" Margaret declared. "You see, honey, they shadows, they promise you power. They want you to use them so they can lure you in, like dangling bait before a fish. And make no mistake, it is great power! Even more than the Light, I dare say, as the Void is wholy dedicated to destruction and death. It calls out to those who are desperate, those who hunger for more."

"So... What? You telling me this just... Feeds on people? What does it even need that for?" He glanced at her face for a moment, and seeing how sincerely she was smiling at him made his heart skip a beat, so he quickly focused his gaze on the floor by the table instead. "It's not like... I mean, is it a living thing, that needs food like us?"

"Hmmmm... Not exactly, no." Dalrus could see from the corner of his eye she was now staring at him intently. "Those are very good questions, however, and I am glad you are asking them. See, the Void is not exactly like the Light, in a sense it does not possess a will of it's own. Rather... It is filled with creatures that do. Among those creatures, there are those we call... The Old Gods. They are incredibly ancient beings, and all are trapped within the Void, each one of them hungry enough to consume this entire world and desperate for a way to escape their prison."

Now he did manage to stare at her without being reduced to a drooling, suttering fool. "You mean... Was it one of those who was... Calling out to me?"

Margaret giggled gleefuly. "Oh, heavens, no, absolutely not! You'd be little more than a mindless zombie if they did!" She finally took off her glasses and shook her hair, which almost made the boy swoon loudly as her long, silken strands flowed enticingly through the air. "Residues, most likely. But no one actually focused on you. What you felt was probably the lingering will of the Void Lords."

Once again, he managed to break out of his trance, then he shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Void Lords? Are they, like, the kings of the Void, or something?"

"That's one way to put it." She said with a nod. "They are unthinkably ancient and powerful, as much as the Void itself. Creatures we literally cannot comprehend with our feeble minds. They are so powerful they can't even manifest in this world, even if they wanted to. All they do is devour and consume, infinitely. Like a never ending well that sucks in everything around it."

Dalrus lifted a brow at how she actually sounded _excited_ as she said those things. "So... Why do we keep using it, then? Shouldn't we just... Seal it forever, or something long those lines? Kind of soundes like a disaster just waiting to happen if you ask me."

Another angellic giggle came from her. "Goodness, you are without a doubt one of the sharpest boys I've ever met! Most people, even after understanding these dangers, would either just give up or continue to delve blindly into the void. It really says something about your intelligence, dear."

His heart was drumming on his chest, and he actually fell his nose and cheeks start to grow warm. "Oh, ah... Ahah... Well, I, I guess I got a lot from my old man... Heh..." He tapped the floor nervously with his foot, then looked straight up at the stone ceiling above in order to further avoid looking at her.

"Such modesty! But yes, to answer your question... There is a saying! 'Stare long enough into the abyss, and soon the abyss stares back at you.' That is why it takes incredible discipline to resist the pull of the void." She suddenly turned around and began to peruse through the several scrolls arranged over her desk. "I suppose, if you were the ask me, the reason we keep using the power of the Void is because... Well! We all think we will be the special case to use it's power without succumbing." Margaret turned around and showed him a closed scroll. "Come here, hold this."

The boy did not move from his spot.

Clicking her tongue irritable, she scowled at him. "I'm not going to banish your mind again, I promise! It's just an image. I'm not sending you anywhere."

Hesitantly, he stepped forward and reached out for the scroll.

"There we go! Hold it like this... Yes. Now help me spread it, and... There!" Each of them was holding a corner of the scroll and suspending it in the air above the floor. Dark runes glimmered along the surface of the scroll, and what appeared to be a thick, purple blob with barely noticeable arms and a head appeared floating in the air. "Now, this is one of the most common creatures that dwell in the void. It is like an elemental, but one made of pure shadow energy. It is a creature with a will of it's own, and it is often summoned by Warlocks to offer aid in battle."

Dalrus leaned his head to the side. "So there are elementals too? Are all elements like this? A living force with a will?"

Margaret giggled once more. "Of course, silly! But that would be delving into the orc practices of shamanism. Believe it or not, our elements tend to be a lot more chaotic than the void itself! At least in this case, we know that no matter what you do, it's just a hungry mass waiting to lure you in and devour you!" They closed the parchment, and Margaret set it back on top of the table. "So, I understand your master has already taught you how to use the Void! Could you perhaps show me?"

For once, he managed to flash her a cocky grin. "Of course! Try and watch this!" He bent his knees into a low crouch, then began to pull the threads from the void. Before long his body was covered in the veil, and he had vanished from sight.

The priest nodded at that. "Hmm, not bad! I can't see you at all. You have trained this part well! Now, how about you step through the Void for me, dear? Can you go from one side of this room to the other?"

Dalrus hesitated, then broke his stealth and nodded at her. "I... Yeah, of course. I can do it." He didn't really need to, but he began winding his arm as he walked towards the far side of the room. "Alright, should be no problem... I've done this before. It's easy, isn't it?" He shook his head and tried to relax. "I can do this... Here we go, then." Taking in a deep breath, he focused deeply and closed his eyes. He knew what to do, where to go. Gathering his strength, he proceeded to attempt to step through the shadows.

The sad thing is, he already knew things would go wrong before he even began. He had failed doing that before - the results still very vivid in his mind - but this time, it somehow felt worse. It was as if a gigantic hand were squeezing him, holding him in the air, pure darkness surrounding him. Once more, he could see them... Those eyes... Hundreds of them peering into his soul from all sides. _"Foolish boy... Step into our realm... And we shall devour you."_

He woke up, once more, laying upon Margaret's bed. This time, however, the priestess, was hunching over him, one hand supporting her elbow as the other hand supported her chin. "Hmmm... My, my. It's worse than I thought." She said as he opened his eyes.

"Uh... What?" He managed to blurt out, a sudden wave of vertigo keeping him down on the bed.

Margaret sighed and placed her hands on her knees as she sat down on her stool. "Silvius had told me you were having trouble delving deeper into the Void. I now see what he meant. You're scared of something."

Dalrus rubbed his eyes to try and focus his mind a little bit. "Uh... Yeah. Maybe of the all consuming maw hanging open right in front of me, and that evil voice threatening me inside my head?"

The priest, however, peered down at him with unusually cold eyes. "You can joke all you want, darling. You can lie to your master, to your parents, to your friends, to me, and you can even try to lie to yourself. But those things in there... You can't lie to them. So I suggest you start being honest to yourself as well."

Dalrus went silent. He stared up at the ceiling with wide eyes, sweat trickling around his eyes.

After a long silence, he felt Margaret's hand upon his own - and was amazed by how warm and soft she was. "What is it you are so scared of, Dalrus? What is it you see each time you dive through the shadows?"

He remained silent for a long time, feeling the woman patiently hold his hand and stare down at his face as he continued to face straight upwards. Finally, he closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "It's... It's not me." He finally managed to whisper.

The priestess leaned forward. "What's not you, sweetie?"

The boy managed to lift his other hand and shield his eyes as he began to speak in a hushed tone: "This... All this. Me. Myself. I'm... It's not me. This... Isn't me."

He felt her hand give his an affectionate squeeze. "What do you mean, dear? Why isn't this... You?"

He pressed his lips firmly together and breathed through his nose for a few minutes. Eventually, he pulled his hand away from his eyes and his head flopped to the side so he could stare out the grated window. "I... My whole life. I am supposed to be the shadow. My brother... He left. He went to fight in the war. And I stayed. Ever since I was born... This place, this city... It's all I have ever seen and known. I thought... Maybe this is how it should be. This is where I belong. This is where I want to be... But... In the end." He closed his eyes and let out a low painful moan. "That's not me... It's not what I want at all."

Dalrus then heard her whispering into his ear: "What is it that you want, then?"

His eyes remained closed. "I want... I want to live, damnit!" He almost screamed in frustration. "I want to see what's beyound this bloody wall! I want to live in this huge world! I want to meet more people... I want to see new things... Explore new places, find hidden, lost objects, I don't know, anything! I can't take this... This stillness! I can't live like this! This isn't... This shadow... It's not me... But whenever I am in there... That is what I'm looking at. All my father, my king and my uncle raised me to be... A sheep. Bloody cattle waiting to be herded and taken somewhere they say I belong. This isn't... It's not... That's not who I am. It's not me!"

"If that is not who you are... Why can't you be yourself, then?" He once again heard the whisper.

"Because... I just... I can't." He sighed sadly. "Father needs me... My brother... My mother... And now the entire kingdom is being threatened. I can't just do what I want... I can't be that selfish. I have a duty..."

"But this is the way to do it." Once again the whispers came. "The shadows can free you. The shadows can enlighten you. The shadows will take you wherever you wish to go."

Now he opened his eyes. He realized Margaret was holding her hand over his head as she frantically stared at his face. She looked almost as surprised as him when he looked at her. "Goodness! How did you do that?" She said, setting him down against the wall. To his utter astonishment, he realized he was still standing where he was before attempting to perform his shadow step.

"I... You... But... I was in your bed, and you were holding me, and..." His head felt like a thousand needles were trying to dig through his brain.

A different kind of smile seemed to appear on the priestess' lips. "Oh, my! Well, if you're having those kinds of dreams, then perhaps the situation isn't as serious as I thought!"

He quickly realized what she meant by that, and his face began to grow red as his mouth went dry. "Wha- no! No, that's not... It's not that kind of dream! Just... You told me... You asked what I was scared of. I told you, and... I heard a voice. It said the shadows could free me, it would take me where I wanted to go..." He winced as a sharp pain went through his brain, and began to rub his temples with his finger tips to try and do something about that growing headache.

"Oh. Oh dear. Oh, my goodness, that's... Hmmm. That's so interesting..." The woman was now standing before him, one hand on her hip as the other tapped her chin. "The moment you vanished, you immediately reappeared on the same place, passed out. I rushed over and felt your mind was clouded, enveloped by something else. You were being shown something. Looks like it was a vision from the Void, how exciting!"

"Exciting!?" He winced again, the sound of his own voice making his head throb. "Bloody hell, this has never happened before! I've had trouble walking through the Void a few times, but never like this!"

"Ah, yes. Well, this place is a little closer to the void than most. I should have told you that sooner!" She shot him an apologetic smile. "I'm terribly sorry, honey. But I'd say we made fantastic progress tonight! You are one step closer to mastering the void, I can feel it! I can't wait to continue your training!"

"Are you bloody mental!?" He had to snap his eyes shut. "I can't do that. This is driving me insane! Something is out there for me! I can't-" His little outburst was interrupted when he felt her soft hand placed against his head, and suddenly his headache was gone. When he opened his eyes, he realized she was squatting down in front of him, her gentle eyes peering into his. "I understand why you are afraid, dear." She whispered as she stroked his hair. "But what you don't realize is... The Shadow is showing itself to you. It is testing you. The reason why you are having so much trouble with it... Is because you are afraid. The only to master the darkness is to show you are not afraid. Make it afraid of you. Bend it to your unbreakable will, not the other way around. You are as strong as you think you are. So long as you have doubts and hesitate... This will keep on happening, regardless of what path you follow."

The boy took in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled through his mouth. "This... Thing... It... It knows me better than I do." He managed to whisper. "How can I overpower something like this?"

"Well... I would say a great first step is getting to know yourself better! Take away whatever it is holding against you. Rid yourself from doubts and shames, and be proud of who you are!" The woman stood up and slapped the dust off her dress. "I believe that is enough for tonight. You can go, honey. And I suggest you spare some time to think about this. Who, exactly, is this cute little boy called Dalrus Plaguefang?"

That night, as Dalrus left the cathedral, his mind was full to the brim with those clouding thoughts... The Old Gods, the Void lords, the voices that called to him, the cold grip of the Darkness, and the divinely gorgeous priestess who thought he was cute.

In the afterglow of the first day of the invasion, the citizens of Gilneas city were all very restless. Those in the cathedral had seen the monstrous gargoyles flying around the wall, as well as the chunks of body parts the meat wagons had hurled over it's edge - some of them Dalrus himself had seen scattered around the woods as he made his way back.

Soldiers were everywhere. There were many medical tents along the forest, but most of the injured were being taken back to the cathedral square, where all the priests and healers were gathering. Some were taken back to their homes within the city, where they were being cared for their own family. There had been many Gilnean deaths today, the king had said, but five times as many of the undead had fallen. That thin purple veil was visible hanging just outside the city, starting from behind the gates - where Arugal was surrounded by a team of mages supporting his magical power and helping mantain the field through the whole night. Every now and then gunfire could be heard, along with blasts from the cannons. Despite their losses, the undead did not relent in their attack. Dalrus wondered if they would run out of ammo before the enemy ran out of troops to send.

There was a military tent along the western side of the wall, close to the gate. He knew that was where the generals, along with the king himself and many nobles were discussing battle tactics. His father was probable there, while his uncle was most likely working to sabotage the enemy lines.

The walk home was no pretty sight, to say the least. People were screaming in pain or begging for something - food, shelter, news, medical care, the pain to end - everywhere. It was absolutely chaos. Darius Crowley could be seen on his horse darting back and forth as he tried to restablish some order, but with very little effect. Dalrus snuck past all that and made his way into the city.

The change was almost instant. The streets were deserted. Stores were closed, windows were barred. Not even animals were seen scurrying towards alleys. All was silent, all was dark and ominous. He swallowed down dryly and hurried off along the way, heading back towards his manor. Darkness had settled on Gilneas, and the lamp posts ignited along the city didn't do much to keep it at bay.

The sky was cloudy, no stars visible by the time he arrived home. He came in through the front door, and saw the fireplace by the living room lit. Looking up the stairway that led to the second floor, he realized the chandeliers on the walls were lit as well, which made the entire manor well illuminated, a nice change of pace from the dark atmosphere outside. He made his way up, careful not to make any sound as he did so. He could hear noise coming from the direction of his mother's room. Arriving there, Dalrus peeked inside.

His mother was staring into a bowl of soup, which was being held by her maid. The old woman was attempting to feed her, but Lady Dallys was practically unresponsive. "My lady, please, you must eat! What will your husband and your sons think if they come back and you are weak because you did not feed?" She was saying, the spoonfull of soup hanging just before the woman's lips. Still, she refused to answer, or even acknowledge her existence. Taking in a deep, Dalrus stepped into the room and said: "Mother, she is right."

He saw her hands, which were resting on her lap on the bed, slowly relax. "Dalrus..." She whispered, her gaze still vacant. "Your brother... Your father... Where...?"

"They are fine, and you are worrying too much." He declared as he walked up to her. "Thank you Dahlia, I'll take it from here."

The maid bit on her lip, then she sighed and stood up, taking a moment to place the spoon back on the bowl. "I'm terribly sorry, Lord Dalrus, I've been trying all day, but she just refuses to speak and eat... I'm so worried!"

The boy managed to force a smile at the old lady. "It will be fine. I'll make her eat. You can go now." The maid took a moment to give him a respectful bow before scurrying off the room. Dalrus took the bowl in his hands and sat down by the edge of the table next to his mother. "So..." He began to say. "We managed to hold them off. Wall is still there, tall and strong. No one made it in today." Glancing to the side, he saw his mother had slightly turned her head to continue to stare at the bowl in his hands. "Though, they brought in some nasty toys... The army had no choice but gather outside to keep them away." Still no reaction from her. He grabbed the spoon and began to slowly spin it around the bowl. "Dad and Fel were among the troops that fought."

He was certain he saw her hand tremble for a moment. He took in a deep breath and leaned back agains the pillows piled up against the wall behind them. Casually, he brought a spoonfull of the soup up to his lips and took in a sip. "Nasty battle, too. I saw those monsters cleave people in two with one blow." From the corner of his eye, he could see his mother was biting down on her lip. "Yep. Any normal person wouldn't be back from that. Lots of children lost their parents today."

Finally, his mother turned her head completely, her eyes very wide and her brows furrowed. He could see she was holding back her tears. "How dare you torture your own mother like this, boy! You know your father and your brother wouldn't die like that!" Dalrus, however, did not falter under her outburst. "I know that very well, mom." He said with all the calm in the world, a second spoonfull of her soup meeting his lips. "I think you were the one who forgot that detail for a while."

The woman looked like she was about to slap him, then she let out a long sigh of exhaustion and collapsed against the pillows next to him. "I know... I know, I know I shouldn't worry... I know damn well they are doing their part, that they are helping save this city, save you... Save me... But it's just so..." She brought her hands to her eyes and, to his surprise, began to sob. "It's so bloody... Infuriating! I can't do anything... I should be there, helping them... I want to be by his side, I want to help him fight... Your father, your uncle, your brother... I am just so useless, a waste of space that needs to be cared for..."

She was suddenly interrupted when Dalrus hands grabbed her by the wrists and forced her to turn around and stare at his deep blue eyes. "What the hell are you saying? You're useless? Dead weight? Then what the bloody hell are we fighting for? What are they risking their lives for?" He had never felt like that before... Angry at his mother. "Don't say things like that! Useless!? Hah! You are the reason they can fight so hard in the first place! Knowing you're here... Knowing we have something to come back for... Someone who wants us to be back... That is the main reason we have to fight in the firt place. You're our beacon of light in this dark, dark night, mom. And seeing you sad, without any will to live... That's even worse than hordes of undead pouring into the city."

Dallys Plaguefang sobbed once more, then threw her arms around her son's neck and squeezed him as tightly as possible. "Oh, Dalrus... My son... I am so sorry... All this... All that's happened lately... It's made me so... Uneasy... And sad... All my uncertainties, all my doubts, they just... I didn't know how to cope with it!" She wiped her tears with her long sleeves and moved back, taking in her son's appearance. "You look... Older, somehow. You have grown so fast, Dalrus... War... That's something your father and I hoped you and Felrus would never need to endure. Yet... Here we are. This world... It's so... Broken. Like a jar that's been dropped, the pieces scattered. We have no idea how to put it all together..." She let out a sad little chuckle. "And I get this feeling the worst is yet to come. Can we ever have true piece? Or are we doomed to never bask in freedom? To forever look over our shoulders to see a dark horizon?"

The boy placed his hands on his mother's shoulders, then slowly he leaned in and planted a loving kiss on her cheek. "Mom..." He whispered. "I know things look grim. We could die at any time. But it's pointless to just fret over it. In the end... All it comes down to is wheather or not we are going to do something about it. Father, and Felrus... They are out there, doing their part. Today I saw it... I saw their war. I saw what they have been fighting against this whole time. I saw evil, mom... And I realized something." His hands moved to her wrists, then slowly took hold of her own hands. "It's not really a matter of good or evil. In this world... Rather, just about everywhere... There are things who want to feed, who want to consume. Not because they are evil, not because they like killing or making others suffer... But rather... That's just what they do. It's how they exist. To fight them back is not a matter of righteousness or doing good... It's about us surviving. It's about us, as living creatures, showing that our will to go on living is stronger than their will to end us. That is the power we all have... And the power I'm going to use to keep you and everyone else safe."

All this, his mother listened silently while peering into his eyes. When he was finished, tears were once more leaking out the corners of her eyes, except this time, she was smiling at him. "My son... You have grown so much..." She said once more, her hand going for his cheek and stroking it tenderly. "Dalrus... You are right. I know you are. I have a duty too... For a moment... That will in me faltered. I'm sorry, my son. I promise you... It will never happen again. I will go on living... For you... Your father... Your brother... And my brother as well. I love you all with everything I have... And I know you will all be there for me." She took in a deep breath, then once more wiped her tears. "I'm sorry I made you worry like this... And I'm sorry you had to grow up so quickly. I won't be like this again. I promise."

Smiling, the boy leaned up to kiss his mother's other cheek. "That's more like it! Now be a good lady and drink your soup up, alright? Poor Dahlia doesn't get paid enough to worry about you like this!" Setting the bowl on her lap, he kissed his mother one last time on the forehead and got up. Looking over the window, he could see that his father and brother were riding uphill towards the manor. A smile crept up on his face as he watched them arrive by the front door, then heard their heave steps as they rushed upstairs to see Lady Dallys. _'Yeah...'_ He thought as he greeted his father and brother with a loud "What took you so long!" _'We are getting through this... Together.'_


	9. Chapter 9 - The threat from within

_**Chapter 9 - The threat from within**_

Dalrus was the first to hear them. Screams. Coming from the city, no less. He quickly jumped off his bed and stared out through the window. The road leading up to the city was very dark, but that was not where he had heard the screams coming from. Without even thinking, he grabbed his belt - which had his daggers and throwing stars - along with his clothes, and ran out through the hall. He had already put on his boots and cloak by the time he heard his father and brother coming down the stairs. "You heard too?" He said as the two came into view from the top. "It came from the wall!"

"Aye. You stay put here, your brother and I are going to investigate." Kalthuz declared, throwing a jacket over his shoulders and hoisting his sword belt. Felrus was clad similarly, except he also sported his shield over his back.

"What? No! I'm coming with you!" Dalrus declared, already making his way towards the door. He almost instinctively dodged his father's hands as he felt the man grab him by the shoulders and twist him around to face him. "No." He sternly said. "You stay here and take care of your mother, Dalrus. I need to know she is safe while your brother and I are out investigating. Understood?"

The boy furrowed his brows in desperation. He felt Felrus' hand on his arm, and turned to face his brother. "Dal, please." He said. "Listen to father. I, too, would feel much safer knowing you're here with her. If somehow the undead managed to invade the city, you're our best hope of keeping her safe."

The boy began to say something, then caught himself. Biting his lip, he lowered his head and nodded silently. "Good boy. We will give word as soon as we know what's going on." And with that, they both left, leaving Dalrus behind. He watched through the window as they climbed onto their horses and set off towards the wall, heading for the bridge to the west to reach the wall as soon as possible. Dalrus curled his hands into fists and punched the wooden frame surrounding the glass in frustration. "Gods be damned... Am I supposed to just wait...?" He whispered, feeling helpless as his brother and father vanished in the dark night. He sighed and began to pace restlessly back and forth around the room, trying to guess what was going on. Maybe the scourge had unleashed a new weapon? Some sort of titanic monstrosity so powerful it could survive in Arugal's magical field? Or maybe some new threat? He couldn't even begin to imagine. After about ten minutes, he threw his arms up in frustration and was about to head back upstairs when he heard the screams again... Except this time, they were coming from the city. Dalrus froze where he stood, then turned around. Could the undead have truly broken through? If so, he would need to find a safe spot to keep his mother... Then again, if the wall had fallen, hiding wouldn't do much good as they would all be doomed anyway. He could now see there were people coming out of the city, most on foot, some on horse back. The boy quickly ran outside and sprinted towards the road. Approaching one of the people who ran - a woman holding an infant boy - he asked: "What's going on? Why are you running?"

Without even slowing down - and Dalrus having to run to keep up with her - the woman frantically replied - "The undead... They're here! The soldiers... They turned! The injured and the dead, they all began to rise and attack us!" Dalrus stopped where he was and let them go, his gaze shifting back to the city. He could hear more screams now... Taking a deep breath, he tugged on his cloak, pulling the hood on so it would cover his head and began running back the way those people came.

It barely took him a few minutes to get there, but he could see chaos was already well spread. Arriving on Greymane Court, he could see there were a few corpses on the streets, fresh ones. The military quarter was to the east, but the vast majority of the soldiers were all camping just behind the wall's gates. The true commotion, however, was coming from nowhere less than the cathedral square.

Once again he broke into a full sprint, and just above the bridge connecting the court to the cathedral, he bore witness to what exactly was going on there. The guards were fending off three of their own... Except those men were covered in blood, their skin pale and lifeless. They were snarling and waving their swords wildly, not caring for their own wounds as they did their best to annihilate their fellow Gilneans. _'No way...'_ Dalrus though, horrified. _'Those soldiers... They turned into the undead too?'_ In hindsight, he and everyone else should probably have seen that one coming.

The boy thought the guards would be able to easily defeat their undead comrades... But with a shock, he realized they were probably utterly exhausted. No to mention, they were being attacked by people who only hours ago not only they thought were dead, but had fought by their side on the frontlines to defend their home. How could they simply turn their swords at those men?

As he stood there having philosofical dilemmas like an idiot, more screams rose from behind. There were no less than ten undead Gilneans raising from their death beds now, and an alarm was already sounding throughout the town. More soldiers came from the military quarters behind, and Dalrus saw Lyam Greymane leading a squad. "With me! V formation! Don't let a single one through!" He shouted, his rifle already in his hands and aiming at the advancing undead.

Activating his stealth, Dalrus fell back as the squad of soldiers rushed forward to contain the attack from their fallen. He watched as they rushed ahead, gunfire already echoing through the night. _'Welp, nothing to do here!'_ He thought with a mental nod as he turned around to leave. He had barely taken two steps when he felt a chill creep up over his spine, then his gaze turned to the Merchant square, which was north to the Military Quarters. He was reminded of the soldiers who had been taken home to their families. _'Oh... Bugger.'_ Was the only thing that passed through his head as he suddenly broke ahead into a sprint as fast as his legs could carry him. He quickly raced over the bridge towards the Military Quarter and continued on ahead, his cloak flapping in the air behind him as wind rushed past his ears. He could see injured soldiers laying against walls, healthy soldiers squeezing their guns and swords in nervousism, but no one was having the same idea as him.

Right in the middle of the square was the imposing figure of Stoneward Prison, the only prison in all of Gilneas as far as the boy knew. The huge place was mostly empty, as very few people there actually commited crimes, so the place was mostly being used as a makeshift hospital. Up to the north, the Merchant Square was in dead silence. Dalrus did not think that was a good sign.

There were only a couple people standing guard there, and they both had their backs turned to that part of town. The guards were chatting among themselves, pointing at the Cathedral Square and wondering what the fuss was all about. Dalrus simply raced in between them and continued forward. He did not stop until he was right in the middle of the square, where he finally skidded to a halt and looked around.

Darkness. Silence. Not even the wind was blowing. He furrowed his brows. Maybe he was wrong? All the noise was still coming from the west. Gunfire was still loudly echoing through the night, audible all the way from where he was. Maybe he was overreacting. After all, even through all that commotion, no one was even outside... No one was even bothering to check the noise... Out...

 _'Oh, bugger me...'_ He thought, almost moaning out loud. Taking a deep breath, he began to slowly creep forward. _'Seriously? All the way here? How did they even get in?'_ He thought, his mouth stretching into a thin line. _'Gods be damned, if I end up faced with one of those giant spider things, I swear...'_ His grim line of thought was interrupted when, at long last, he heard some noise. Stopping in his tracks, he looked around, trying to focus on his hearing. It was very faint, barely audible, but it was there... Rythmic, grave, and coming from somewhere below. Dalrus frowned. Were they underground? The sewers, perhaps? No, those were far too deep underground... It sounded more like they were in somewhere's basement.

His eyes still closed, and walking on such soft steps not even he could hear himself walk, Dalrus began to move towards that sound. It took every bit of his concentration not to lose track of it. It was like chasing a leaf in the middle of a windy storm. If he so much as blinked it would lose sight of it forever. As it were, he relied on his reflexes to make sure he would walk a safe path as he moved towards the source of that sound. He could almost see it... In the darkness of his closed eyes, it was there... So faint... Like a darker thread in an already dark room... No, not just one... There were many of them converging towards one spot... From all directions, someone was pulling dark powers from the Twisting Nether. All that was gathering in a single spot, forming clawed hands that were attempting to grab at the fabric of reality itself, and tear it open. Dalrus did not want to think what could possible come through from something like that...

 _"We know what you're afraid of."_

Dalrus opened his eyes.

He was standing in front of a pair of wooden doors leading down to a basement. It was in an alleyway between two buldings. He was certain that was where the sound was coming from, also where the shadows were converging towards. He was also certain that if he were stupid enough to open those doors and go down by himself, he would not be coming back up.

He stood up straight and raced as quickly as possible around the building. The front door was closed, of course, but that could be easily fixed. Leaning his neck to the side until it cracked, the boy proceeded to dramatically lock his fingers and crack them all as well. He then reached down for his belt and pulled out a couple of iron bolts. Taking a knee, he took a close look at what he was working with. The house belonged to a merchant, so the lock was sturdy and made of iron. But Gilneas did not exactly have an issue of high crime rates; he probable wouldn't need to write it down to remember all the people kept at Stoneward Prison. So security was somewhat lax, as the king, at the very least, provided plenty of guards to enforce security on the streets. Within moments the lock was picked, and ever so gently, he pushed the door in, worried that the hinges might squeak. It took him almost a full minute to open it sufficiently for him to step inside, then close it behind him without making any noise.

He found himself in a large hallway, with stairs to the right leading up to the second floor. That wasn't where he wanted to go. He stopped for a moment so he could think. A way downstairs. That would most likely by somewhere out of the way... The kitchen? He decided to head there first. The first room he passed through was deserted, sporting an old couch with a fireplce before it. Books were lined up on shelves, and an old lamp was hanging near the ceiling. Rather ominous, really. He continued forward, then saw what appeared to be a bathroom. Odd design choice, as someone who wanted to use it would have to move in front of whoever was in that room at the time. Backtracking, he went through a room to the left. This time he found the kitchen. There were a few cupboards along the walls, a table by a corner with long drapes over it and another door leading further back in. After inspecting that door, Dalrus discovered it housed cleaning tools and nothing more. Scratching his head, he stopped to think for another moment. He closed his eyes and focused... Now where was it? He could see those dark tendrils still moving towards the same spot as earlier. He tried to follow it's path, but it was like trying to look beyound the edges of his periferal vision. He opened his eyes, and realized he was staring at that table. A thought ocurred to him. He stepped forward and crouched down. Lifting the drapes, he found a thick, old carpet on the floor. Lifting that as well revealed a doorway that lead underground. _'Bingo.'_

During the five whole minutes it took Dalrus to move the table, then the carpet, then picking the lock on the door, then opening it as slowly as possible while focusing on his hearing to make sure no one was on the other side, he could sense that the darkness was growing stronger. He could now make out a new element among it's tendrils. It was bright as a flame, but green in color. Somehow, it wasn't as pretty and enticing as the green of fresh new grass. It was a deep, evil green, one that almost made him recoil instinctively. A single word echoed in his mind when he wondered what it could possible be. _'Fel...'_ He wondered if all the tension was driving him crazy or if some sort of void maggot was eating away at his brain. Either way, he had no time to fret over the matter.

The door on the floor led down a stairway that was absolute pitch black. The good news was Dalrus' eyes were already well adjusted to the darkness. The better news were he was certain he'd be able to hear whatever was ahead. The terrible news were once he began going down, his passage up would most likely be blocked. Sighing internally, he began his descent, closing the door behind him on his way down.

By now he could better hear the chanting from earlier. It was a group of people, maybe four of them... No, there was a fifth one. They kept chanting ominous words Dalrus couldn't possible imagine what they were. Arriving at a corridor, he saw a room by the end of it where that green light from earlier was flashing again and again. As he saw no one guarding the entrance, he, as silently as a shade, stalked forward, making extra certain he was fully stealthed before sticking his head over the corner and taking a peek at what was going on. What he saw almost made his jaw drop.

There were four people there, clad in long, dark robes with scarves around their faces. They were waving their pale, bony hands around in the air, and whenever they did so, those bright green flames erupted, sometimes wild and untamed, sometimes in the form of glyphs Dalrus had never seen before. To the back of the room, Dalrus saw several villagers tied up, undead soldiers standing guard over them, still like the corpses they were but with their weapons menacingly pointed straight down. Right in the middle of the room was a tall figure clad in similar clothing, and on his knees before him, was no one else than his master Silvius.

"High lord..." One of the cloaked people said in a deep, raspy voice. "The ritual is almost complete... The Gilneans are still busy fighting our distraction!"

"Excellent. The fools have no idea, then." Said the man in the middle, who was holding a hand above Dalrus' uncle's head. "Thanks to our little agent... Passage through the water way was quite easy. They never suspected we would infiltrate one of the ships. We should thank you for your cooperation, Lord Moonbite."

Dalrus could see his master's head was low, his eyes staring blankly at the floor right in front of him. He thought maybe the man was dead... But then one of the acolytes said: "His spirit is still trapped, my lord. He cannot hear us."

"Ah, yes. What a shame. I would have liked to taunt him a little more, but the man has courage, at the very least." With a little snicker of disdain, the acolyte's hand began to glow. A circular glyph formed in the space between his palm and Silviu's forehead, and a strong wind pressure started to form, causing the acolytes to lower their cowls in order to shield themselves. "Yes... Perfect! To find we would find such an incredible vessel... The void already has a hold on him. Using his life to open a demonic portal... After this success, no doubt I'll be allowed to rise to the ranks of a lich lord!" Despite the powerful draft that had even Dalrus squinting, the man's eyes were wide open, and the boy imagined he was grinning like a lunatic under his scarf. "The time is now! Your life shall be offered to our masters... The Burning Legion shall take this pathetic world of yours, mortal!" And with that, he waved at his undead servants. "Bring all the sacrifices! Let their lives fuel the flames and sate the hunger of our demon lords!"

 _'Nope.'_ Was the only word repeating itself over and over inside Dalrus' head. _'Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Absolutely not.'_ He could feel his heart in his throat. What the bloody hell was he supposed to do? The villagers were being dragged, screaming and kicking - about four of them, he could tell. A fat old merchant, someone he thought would most likely be his wife, a wounded soldier, and... Was that flipping Lorna!? _'Oh, buggeration!'_ The boy almost moaned out loud, watching as the people were brought inside of the circle along with his master. There was a maelstron of green fel energy swirling around them now, giving him only glimpses of what was going on.

"YES! MY LORD AND MASTER, THE LICH KING, FUEL ME WITH YOUR STRENGHT!" The acolyte was screaming. "IN YOUR NAME, I CLAIM THESE LIVES, AND OPEN THE GATES FOR YOUR ARMIES TO DESTROY OUR FOES!" Dalrus saw the man raise his hand. A glowing spear of burning green flames formed there.

 _"The shadows will free you."_

Later on, not even Dalrus himself could explain what exactly happened there. When asked to explain, the best thing he could come up with was: "I just went and did what came to my mind."

In the blink of an eye, his hands went to the pouches of throwing stars on his belt, and picked six projectiles from there. Leaping from his hiding spot, he spun in the air and hurled them with deadly precision. The closest acolyte was pierced by three before he even realized what was going on. The one to his left had one lodged right in her right eye, and a second sank four centimeters into her chest. The other one had three fingers sliced off by his sixth star, which had the man screaming on his knees and holding his maimed hand against his chest. The final one was outside of Dalrus' view, so he had to improvise. He knew where the man was, but the flames, and the undead guards were in the way. He knew exactly where he had to go. He knew exactly where he had to do.

 _'I'm gonna kill these bastards before they lay even one finger on these people.'_

And so there he was. One moment, he was landing on the floor after hurling his deadly darts. The next, he was one meter above the fourth acolyte's head, his daggers already drawn. Dalrus came crashing down upon the man who was taking completely off guard. His weapons sank into his shoulders, with the boy using his momentum to bury them all the way to their hilts. The man died instantly.

The final acolyte stared at him with wide eyes full of hate, and the fire storm around him began to wane and grow unstable. "You...!" The man snarled, but then Dalrus saw the outlines of a smile underneath the folds of his scarf. "No matter! You are too late, fool! The ritual... All I need is this man's life!" His gaze shifting back to Silvius before him, the acolyte brought the hand holding the flame spear down. Dalrus had less than a second to act. The undead soldiers were already hissing and dragging their feet towards him. He Shadowstepped a second time... And found himself within that flaming storm besides the aclyte, with his tiny hands wrapped around the man's wrist, desperately trying to hold his arm up and away from his uncle's face. "You dare stand in my way, boy?!" The acolyte screamed, pushing down with all his might. Despite being a clearly bony and fragile old man, he was still a fully grown adult while Dalrus himself was barely fresh out of his puberty. On top of that, the swirling dark flames around them were really whittling down his stamina. "You will fail! Your entire world will burn! The shadow of death will consume you, and the Burning Legion will reign supreme! You cannot win! Surrender to the call of the Void!"

Those words, however, fell upon deaf ears. All Dalrus could think of were those demonic flames threatening to devour him, his uncle and the villagers while he held the acolyte's arm with all of his young strength. _'I gotta stop this lunatic... He's gonna kill them! He's gonna kill everyone! I have to stop him!'_ Gritting his teeth, he flex his knees and his arms, then let out a savage scream as he suddenly shifted his weight. The acolyte's fel spear missed his uncle by a hair's breadth - actually, he was pretty sure some of his hair got singed - and Dalrus quickly stretched his leg down and behind him. The man screamed as he tripped over the boy's leg and collapsed forward, tumbling against that wall of fel flame. Dalrus saw his flesh get seared in an instant, his darkened skull staring at him dumbfolded before that, too, was consumed.

He did not have any time to celebrate. Looking back, he saw the undead waiting at the edges of the swirling wall of fire... Which was not dying down. Too late, he realized, a life had been offered. Not just one, either... But five. And the final one... One full of dark, void energies. Dalrus could almost see his essence flowing through the void and helping feed the opening of the portal. The dark hands clawing at reality itself grew, and a rift began to open up right before his eyes. _'Oh... Bugger. So much for that.'_ He thought, furrowing his brows as he looked around. The flames were dying down as a dark swirling vortex of void energy began to form in the air, a dark portal that would soon unleash dozens, then hundreds of undead right in the heart of the city. He could already see the first one start to come through. It was tall... The height of a grown person. Clad in white and purple robes, a long staff with a skull at the tip in it's hand, her long, gorgeous silken hair waving beautifully against those demonic flames... Wait, what?

"Marvellous job, Dalrus, sweetie!" Sister Margaret happily said as she smiled down at him. "You did a superb job in buying time and saving your uncle's life! Now let me deal with this nasty little detail..." Turning around, the woman pointed her staff at the void gate. Suddenly, her entire body was covered in a deep, dark purple veil. Her skin appeared to peel away, revealing a glowing, dark matter underneath. Her body looked to be enveloped in bandages, where her robes did not hide her figure. Dark energy was radiating from her as she screamed a word of power, and suddenly, the portal collapsed upon itself. The undead that were about to tear their throats out fell down limply, turning into lifeless corpses once more. The green fel flames vanished, and the room was cast in deep shadow, save for that ethereal glow from his master. "There. That should take care of that." The... Woman? Said with a nod of what appeared to be her head. Her voice sounded like an echo now, and her hair had turned into long, dark tendrils that ebbed and flowed as if they were dangling underwater.

"Uhm..." The boy blurted out, simply staring at her. "You know what, I've seen so much crap today, I'm not even that shocked." He lifted a brow at his teacher and slowly rose up to his feet, taking a moment to dust off his robes. "So, ah... Master Margaret?"

He could almost imagine her launching him one of her angelic smiles as the dark glowing core that was now her head turned to face him. "Oh, my! Yes, I suppose I owe you an explanation, no? But first..." The woman waved her hand. The villagers were already barely conscious before, but now, all of them, including his master, toppled over limply. "Don'y worry, darling. I simply put them to sleep. And I'm meddling with their memories a bit. I think what came to pass here tonight shoul remain our little secret, yes?"

"Are you... What?" His mouth was half open now, his brows deeply furrowed at her. "Can you please explain to me why you came from that portal, and why you look like a constelation wearing robes?"

"Goodness! What a flattering analogy!" She said, now holding her staff with both hands and leaning against it, though Dalrus could see her feet were clearly dangling a few centimeters above the ground. "Well, I guess the cat is out of the bag now! You see, darling, I am actually an Ethereal. Your uncle and I... We go way back. He asked me to stay here and help train you in the ways of the void, as did your mother. I was the one who taught them how to use it in the first place!"

"You ... Were? Wait, you're an... But why... Why are you even..." There were so many questions buzzing around his head he felt his brain would melt down.

"Some other time, honey. I can't explain now. Let's just say... Something bad was going to happen here tonight. I had no choice but to put everyone around here to sleep. These people... They were using your uncle to open a demonic portal through the void. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop them in time... But you really saved the day, dear. I can tell you have an amazing future ahead of you! Now, I must be going. I'm sorry I can't help you against the undead, but something else is really dragging my attention. Good luck, dear!" Waving him goodbye, she tapped the air with her staff, and a new dark portal opened.

"What? No, hold on just a bloody moment! What am I supposed to say!?" His voice went high pitched for a moment, so confused and frustrated he was growing. He tried to grab hold of her wrist... And probably to both of them, surprisingly, his fingers wrapped around something physical. "You still need to tell me... I need to learn more about the Void!"

The ethereal woman launched a very curious look - as much as a being with no eyes could - to where his hand was holding her wrist, then back up at his face. "Dalrus, dear... You have already learned everything. Tonight, the void unquestionably obbeyed your will. Your mind was so focused, your will so strong, you manipulated it without even thinking about it. There is nothing left for us to teach. All that's left now is for you to learn on your own. But don't worry, honey. We will meet again." And with that charming note, the etheral stepped through her gate and vanished, leaving a very confused boy and five other grunting and slowly awakening people behind.


	10. Chapter 10 - Those who dwell in darkness

_**Chapter 10 - Those who dwell in darkness**_

"You mean there are... People!?" The boy said, dumbfounded. "Actual people living in there? Amidst all of... You know... That!?"

"Hmmm... Not exactly." Sister Margaret said. This, Dalrus had come to learn, was a phrase she loved to use. Apparently nothing regarding the Void and all who dwelled within it were what they appeared to be. Or maybe she just wanted to sound wise and mysterious. "Once, they did have a home world of their own. Then they made a few mistakes... Let's just say their arrogance attracted the attention of a Void Lord. And let me tell you something, honey... That is literally the last thing in all universes you want focusing on you."

There was no moon that night. Margaret had lit several lamps around their room for that night's session. Dalrus was sitting on a stool besides her, frowning at the many parchments she had separated for him. "So... You're telling me this thing pulled them into the void, or something?"

"Sort of. " She said, her fingers tapping at her delicate little chin. "There was a war, you see. A consequence of this war was that they all ended up losing their physical bodies, and became beings of dark energy. Eventually, they lost the war. Their home was destroyed, and they ended up living within the Twisting Nether. But they can also come and go as they please to the physical realm."

"That's a nice thought." He said as a shiver crept up his spine. "So... What. These, uh... Ethereals... Are they like ghosts?"

"In a manner of speaking... But they do have a presence in this world. They had centuries to adapt to the void, become part of it. Most of them are greedy traders, seeking relics to hoard and sell. Some seek to spread the void out of spite. Then there are some who would just rather live a peaceful live wherever they can fit." She launched him another one of those heart melting smiles. "Charming, isn't it? There could be one passing next to you on the street and you'd never notice!"

"Bloody wonderful..." He muttered. "And... What exactly do they want?"

"Hmmm... The same you and I, I suppose." She said with a shrug. "To live. To do what they enjoy. That often involves the deep misery of others, though. But life is like that sometimes."

"Ah. Yes, of course."

Memories of that night with Sister Margaret keep running through his mind as Dalrus carried the villagers, his uncle and Lorna Crowley up to the streets. By now, the undead manace had been successfully handled. All the remaining bodies were in the process of being burned down to make sure no more surprise guests would arise in the middle of the night. Dalrus could hear Greymane shouting all the way from the Cathedral, his voice carrying over and far. The boy let out a sigh and sat down against the wall of the house where he had just killed five men and discovered his master was a being of dark energy from another world _ **.**_ Life was indeed strange sometimes.

The undead downstairs, as well as the acolytes Dalrus killed had all vanished into dust, not a trace left behind. He suspected Margaret - if that even was her real name (did ethereals even have genders?) - was behind that as well. She had explained to him everyone was put to sleep and no one would remember what happened, except for Dalrus himself. He let out a tired sigh and rubbed his head, looking up at the cloudy, moonless sky. What a big mess. And somehow, everything was already taken care of. He stood up and walked up to where those four people, plus his uncle were passed out. Earlier they had began giving signs of life, but soon Margaret put them right back to sleep. He hoped she hadn't done anything drastic to them. Just as the thought crossed his mind, his uncle Silvius let out a short, painful moan and sat up, one hand clutching his forehead as he hunched over. "Crivens... What the hell happened to me?" He mumbled in a groggy voice, then half opened one eye and stared straight at Dalrus. Confusion took over his face, then he looked around and saw the other rest of the people around him and his confusion grew even further. "What the f-"

"Oy, take it easy." Dalrus cut him off, taking a step forward and placing a hand on his bare shoulder, the other on his chest. "How's your head? You feeling alright?"

Silvius winced, then began rubbing the side of his head with one hand. "My head's killing me. I remember I was... The undead camp. They had a base set up. I was... Some strange people in long, dark robes... They were doing a ritual. Summoning those things straight off the ground. I began assassinating them... Damnit." He winced once more, his mouth twisting into a painful grunt. "Huff... Blast it, all went dark and now I'm here. I heard a voice... Someone was telling me things."

"Yeah, bad news, uncle." The boy said, now gently patting Silvius' back. "You got beaten by those blokes, then they did some mind tricks on you to get inside the city. Pretty nasty business, dead soldiers began to rise... But everything is A-OK now." He shot his uncle a cocky grin. "Thanks to me, of course!"

The man simply stared at him. "You."

"Yes, me!"

"What exactly was it you did?" He inquired, one brow raising on his forehead.

"Killed the whole lot of them. Five, not less! And saved your life. You're welcome."

Silvius continued to stare at him, then he looked around once more. "And... Where are these... 'Blokes' you killed?"

"Ah, well..." The boy looked over his back into the wooden doors leading to the basement where he had battled the acolytes. "They just up and turned into dust the moment Margaret left."

"Wait, what!? Margaret was here?" Silvius blinked in confusion. "Where did you see her? Where is she now?"

The next few minutes, Dalrus explained in detail everything that happened after waking up in the manor, then arriving at the main city. When he was finished, Silvius was sitting cross legged, his arms also crossed over his bare, scarred chest. "Unbeliavable... I never thought she'd show herself to you like that. Color me impressed, she must really like you."

"Ah, you know me. I'm quite the charmer around alien ghosts from the twisting nether." The boy replied with a shrug. "More importantly, what do we do now? These people will wake up soon."

Taking a glance at the people below, the rogue let out a soft grunt of effort and stood up. "Yeah... We should just leave them here. If what you said is true, they won't remember a thing. The threat is over now, so... We should probably just keep this between us. It won't do to let the panic spread."

Dalrus lifted a brow at him. "You mean you don't want anyone finding out you screwed up."

"I didn't screw up, boy!" The man hissed. "After the sixth acolyte I killed, they began to take drastic measures. There are... I don't even know what those things are. I think it was a human once... But then it was like a living piece of the void with a mind inside. Even I couldn't see it! But it sure as hell could see me. That... Shade... Warned them where I was."

Placing one hand on his chin, the apprentice nodded twice. "I see, I see! It's not that you screwed up! It's just that you were seen on your attempted assassination, and then you were captured! That's totally the opposite of what screwing up means!" Dalrus saw his uncle instinctively reach for the dagger on his belt, but it had been taken the moment he had been captured. On top of that, the man didn't even have the strength to shadowstep forward and smack him across the head. So instead he just glared at his nephew and squinted his eyes. "Either. Way." Silvius slow and forcefully said. "The important thing is, it's over. But the thing is, we can't have people knowing about who Margaret truly is. And the last thing you want is an ethereal mad at you."

"Right, whatever you say. Let's go home, then. You're a wreck." Taking it off, Dalrus offered his cloak to his uncle, who, after brief hesitation, he reached out and threw it over his shoulders. "Fine. Bet let's take the long route around. I don't need anyone seeing me like this..."

It took the duo about an hour to sneak around the guards and make it back to the manor. Dalrus' father and brother hadn't returned yet, so they just entered through the front door. Letting out a tired sigh, Silvius threw himself on top of the couch. "Bloody hell... Those things sure make a big mess."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Dalrus said, laying down just besides the man. "What I saw today... It wasn't pretty." He shuddered as memmories from the war earlier raced throug his mind. "Just... Damn, it's hard to imagine something so... I don't know... Brutal can exist. Those things, they... They just don't care about life at all." He leaned his head back over the couch and stared up at the wooden ceiling above. "It's like... They are anti-life or something."

"Hmmm... Well... You're not too far off the mark." With a strained grunt, Silvius brought his leg up and placed it upon the coffee table in front of them. "Those things are literally walking corpses. Life must be a vague concept to them... Or it would be if they could think."

"What, they don't? Come to think of it, what even are they? Why are they here?" Dalrus frowned. "I think I've been kept in the dark about this bloody long enough."

His uncle launched him a side glance, then placed his head on his torso and finally relaxed against the cushions of the couch. "Yeah... I don't think I can keep calling a boy someone who managed to kill five people on his own. Alright then... You ever heard of a Lich King?"

Dalrus lifted a brow at him. "Yeah, one of those people in the basement mentioned him. He's supposed to be their leader or something, right?"

"Yeah, that's right. Hmmm... OK, you remember the orcs, right? The horde who invaded us a few years back?" Dalrus nodded. "Well, turns out... The one behind it all, nasty fellow by the name of Gul'Dan... He was communing with demons. Specifically... Something called the Burning Legion. They are an army of demons who used to gather under the banner of a fallen Titan by the name of Sargeras." Even Dalrus had heard of the titans before. The forgers of the universe. Creatures of immesurable, unthinkable power who shaped the worlds and filled them with life. Basically, gods. "I don't know how or why he ended up the way he did... But Sargeras was evil. He wanted to consume every world he set his flaming dark eyes upon. And then one lovely day he saw Azeroth."

"Lovely." Dalrus said, his mouth going dry. "What's that got to do with the Lich King?"

"I'm getting there, boy. Be quiet and listen." Silvius then reached out for a couch pillow and placed it under his extended leg. "That's better. Anyway... Azeroth turns out to be harder to invade than most worlds. Turns out, they can't pull it off. So when the orcs show up, the demons come to them with an offer. The orcs drank their blood and were inbued with fel, and that's why their skin is green like that. Warlocks in particular took in tons of demonic energy. And then there was this one fellow by the name of Ner'Zhul... After the defeat of the orcs, the demons decided they had plans for him. They ripped his soul right off his body and locked it inside a suit of armor encased in ice. Then they put that ice block on top of a citadel in Northrend."

"Wait... Isn't that where prince Arty went and lost his marbles?" The boy said, now facing his uncle. "You mean... That's where the Lich King is? He's the soul of an orc trapped in ice and controlling the undead?"

"That's the jist of it, aye." Silvius placed one hand on his face and began to rub his closed eyes. "The Lich King and the Scourge are tools of the Legion. They are launching their third invasion to end us all for good. This time, they brought out their biggest weapons... An eredar lord by the name of Archimonde. He is one of the leaders of the Burning Legion. And he is the one currently comandeering the scourge."

Dalrus went silent. His hands gripped at his knees, then squeezed his pants. "So they corrupted Arthas and began their attack from the heart of the eastern kingdoms... And Gilneas is just another stone in their path, it would seem."

Silvius went silent for a while, the only noise in the room being his eye rubbing. Finally, the old rogue moaned painfully and let his arm fall over the armrest to his right. "Afraid so, boy. Unless we do something about their leaders, demons will just keep falling from the sky while demons assault us from below."

Silence once more. Then the boy spoke once more: "Then why are we walled up here when we should be out there looking for this Archie fellow?"

His uncle scoffed. "He's not here. Left long ago, otherwise we would be dust already. From what I could gather while sneaking around their backlines, the main force is all directed towards the west... Across the seas. To a place called..."

"...Kalimdor." Dalrus whispered, suddenly reminded of the missives sent from Dalaran under the name of a 'Jaina Proudmoore.' "So... That's where the real fighting is. Kalimdor. That's where the horde went... And where the rest of the people in this continent went too. They are going to fight the final battle there."

"Lucky us, eh? This would be a hell of a lot harder with demonic fire golems raining from the sky around our city." Silvius let out a tired chuckle. "Damn it, I'm still so sore... I think I'm just gonna pass out right here, boy. You wake me up if we are facing a new life threat or something." And with that, Dalrus saw his uncle lean his head to the side, close his eyes and fall asleep almost instantly. The boy looked back over his shoulder and through the window behind them. The sun was already rising to rise, but the mountains surrounding their home - not to mention the wall - didn't allow them to see any actual rays for a while. In the distance, he could see the purple veil of Arugal's magical barrier flickering, then slowly fading out. Horns were blowing, people were screaming. Soon the walls were manned once more, and the battle to defend Gilneas from the Undead Scourge continued. "Yeah." Dalrus said, despite his uncle being sound asleep. "Lucky us."


	11. Chapter 11 - The curse of the worgen

_**Chapter 11 - The curse of the Worgen**_

How many days had passed?

Dalrus blinked. Another drop of rain fell on his face, and then a third one. Soon, it was pouring down around him. The water did very little to help fight off the stench.

Mangled and burned corpses were spread as far as the eye could see over the road before the Wall of Greymane, and many had been tossed over the wall and fallen in the woods separating the wall from Gilneas City. By now their sight did nothing to phaze Dalrus, but the stench was almost physically painful. He could swear his nose was starting to go numb. The priests and volunteers from the townsfolk were doing their best to keep the diseased body parts away and prevent the plague from spreading among the Gilneans. So far it was succeeding... But as Dalrus walked amongst them, more and more he saw people who looked like corpses despite being healthy.

Morale was hitting a low amongst the Gilneans. For days now, the undead army battered against their walls. Every day hundreds of those monstrosities attempted to climb the wall or take it down, and every day they had been successful in fending them off. The problem was... _There was just no end to them._

He couldn't even count how many times he had looked over the edge of the wall, and all he saw was that endless sea of monstrosities. Shadowfang keep was also holding it's own, but he doubted things were much better there. No matter how many of undead they killed, there were ten more to take their place. It was as if they were growing from the ground like berries. And now this rain had arrived.

For a while now, the skies were dark. The Scourge's ziggurats and war machines had a dark aura about them, and released dark smoke into the atmosphere. Dalrus figured that without even the comfort of direct sunlight, the defenders would be even further demoralized. He was not wrong.

King Greymane, along with his noble entourage, did their best to keep the men from giving up. But day after day, things looked gloomer. Dalrus didn't doubt they were capable of fending off any attack... But when the attack never ended, it was just a matter of time before they succumbed.

And today was a new day. Dalrus was now on the eastern side of the wall, where the fighting was the lightest. Below, he could see and hear the ocean's waves crashing against the coast. To the west... Screams. Shrieks. Projectiles flying in all directions. Explosions. Deaths from the living, a second one from those already dead. And still, the Scourge continued it's push. Never tiring, never sleeping. About two nights ago, Arugal's magical barrier had failed to stop a wave of gigantic abominations from launching a direct assault at the gates. It was thanks to Lord Crowley - who at the time was comandeering the naval defense from the west - that the hulking freaks failed to do irreparable damage. Crowley lost over twenty men on that desperate defense, and ever since then, an elite extermination squad was to always remain at ready by the sea in case another such an attack were launched. That meant they could not be employed during the day, as their task was of extreme importance and they needed to reserve their strength. And so their forces continued to dwindle and suffer, day after day, as the enemy seemingly had an infinite supply of troops.

Throwing his cloak over his head, Dalrus crouched low and ran as fast as he could along the wall as the rain poured down around him. He could hear the metallic 'clangs' it made as it fell upon the defender's armor and cannons. Men were yelling and scurrying to take the cannonballs and gunpowder away from the rain. Dalrus thought about taking a break at the first point... But then decided to go all the way back towards the gate. He was soaked by the time he arrived, but it didn't bother him much. Few things could actually bother him at that point, with death itself literally knocking at the doors of his city.

His mother, at least, had managed to hold strong. Miraculously, neither her husband nor her son had been seriously injured so far. Silvius' condition didn't improve much after that night, and while he could take his place among the front lines, helping sneak through the smaller hordes and take down important targets like necromancers, infiltrating the main camp was out of the question to anyone. And just like that, all hope of ending that war with a surgical strike at the enemy's most vital point was crushed.

Food was being rationed, and people were growing restless. There were those who would cry out in despair, say there was no point in continuing the struggle and beg the enemy for mercy. Others said they should flee. There were boats in the harbour, despite it being closed off. Many more said Gilneas was their home and they should defend it to the bitter end... And then there were those who would take... Drastic measures to ensure they wouldn't be turned into one of the undead after they inevitably lost. But the vast majority was simply trying to put on a brave face with a blank, hopeless expression. Despair was settling all over Gilneas.

Today, Dalrus remembered, his brother and father would be defending from the shore to the west. Time and again the undead attempted to bring their boats around the edge of the wall, but their defenses were simply too tight to be breached. That did not stop their enemy from trying, however. Even a single foe who managed to slip through could cause catastrophic damage. Lucky for them, however, tinder for ships was the one thing the Scourge didn't appear to have an unlimited supply of. Even luckier, there weren't any kinds of undead sharks or something. So no constant threat from the ocean. The Gilneans were practically free to send in troops from the west by ship unimpended. That allowed them to flank the enemy at will from that side, one of the main reasons they had held as long as they did so far. Still... Each man that fell against the Scourge was another one added to their numbers. And one less irreplaceable defender for their city.

Arriving by the gate, he saw the defenders had formed a defensive line before the shoreline. Cannon balls were raining down on the enemy, and the foot soldiers were side by side, their shields lined up to form a literall defensive wall. Still... Dalrus knew, and so did the Scourge... Men would, eventually, tire. Even if it took days for their determination to fade, it inevitably would.

Nerubians and abominations were keeping the shoreline defenders from reaching the main forces assaulting the wall. Until that day, they had always managed to push through the undead and cleanse the walls from those monstrosities. But today, for the first time... They were being held in check. Were they too tired? Was the enemy stronger? Dalrus did not know, and didn't think it mattered. Everyone was at the end of their forces.

 _'Well... At least we did better than Lordaeron.'_ He thought bitterly. The worst thing was, literally any other kind of enemy would fail. But a war against an endless army that never tired, didn't need provisions and didn't suffer with morale... It was just unfair.

A massive explosion came from their side. Looking over, Dalrus saw that the scourge had unleashed one of their destroyers; mobile catapults fueled by burning fel boulders. The defenders were scattering, and someone was shouting orders to regroup and attack the destroyer. Chaotic battle ensued, and eventually, the threat was eliminated and the Gilneans regrouped once more... This time with a smaller line. And it would only keep growing smaller until no longer anyone was there.

 _'Bloody hell... We are going to need a miracle.'_ Dalrus thought, hoping at least his family was OK from that terrible assault. Then... Movement. Dalrus could see something new arise from the undead ranks. He was reminded of his brother's tale the night he had returned... A demon the size of a house with bat-like wings and massive horns coming out of his bald, flaming head. Surely enough, the creature who came into their view fit the description nicely.

"HUMANS!" His heavy voice echoed all around them. "YOU HAVE FOUGHT WELL! YOU HAVE GIVEN US MORE TROUBLE THAN WE THOUGHT WAS WORTH TO EXTERMINATE YOU! AND FOR THAT, WE SHALL BE MERCIFUL! OPEN YOUR PATHETIC GATES NOW, AND WE PROMISE YOU QUICK DEATHS BEFORE BEING BOUND IN ETERNAL SERVITUDE TO THE LICH KING!" After his little speech, his malevolent laughter was all that was left, slowly fading into the wind. Then, movement once more... And finally, the entire host began it's march.

Dalrus felt his heart sink. There had to be a dozen destroyers making their way over. Abominations, bone colossi, nerubians, gargoyles... The whole package was marching forwards. The defenders were already on the move, unleashing a supressive barrage of gunfire, cannonballs and magic against the Scourge... But they barely managed to slow them down. Surely, they were suffering heavy losses. Dalrus calculated over half would be decimated before even reaching the gates. But once they did... Even if they did manage to hold them off, the gates would be damaged. And soon the necromancers would bring in fresh corpses to refuel their army and attack again. And again. And again. Until finally, the gates crumbled. He could only watch, men screaming, guns firing, spells being cast all around him...

The undead was almost right at their gates...

And it was then that they showed up.

No one could even begin to fathom where those creatures came from at the time. No one had any idea what they were, why they were there. One moment, the undead armies were right on Gilneas' doorstep... And the next... A new army composed of creatures that looked like wolves as huge as men were assaulting the Scourge. The creatures fought with fang and claw, howling and snarling like beasts.

All they could do was stare aghast as the undead were absolutely decimated. The creatures looked as if they had as little regard about their safety as the undead themselves. Scores of them were killed, countless more were killing. Like a tidal wave, they washed over the undead armies, and continued to press on forward. The undead were pushed back to Pyrewood, and then all the way back to Shadowfang Keep. The defenders on the shoreline were still dealing with the undead there, but before long a portion of those wolf creatures separated from the main host and began assaulting those as well.

Dalrus was not sure he could even believe what he was seeing. It was a miracle. Out of nowhere, an army of beasts had shown up and saved the day. He watched in amazement as the undead by the shore were killed by the beasts. The defenders stood there, watching them, no doubt just amazed as he was...

Only for their joy to be ended the moment the beasts attacked the defenders as well.

Those who had finished anihilating the undead all the way up to Ambermill were now turning towards Shadowfang keep. Their howls could be heard all the way from the wall as they charged ahead. Unlike the undead, those creatures were incredibly agile. Many were killed on the attempt, but some managed to cross the bridge. Dalrus could hear the screams from where he was. And then there were those down on the shoreline, desperately trying to fend off that new threat. Chaos was everywhere. The full army of those creatures was now surrounding the Keep for to the north, sieging it. Fortunately, those who remained behind were few.

Dalrus heard screams from below. Crowley was shouting for the gates to open up so they could rescue the men at the shore. Godfrey was saying they were already lost, they would do better to aim ther cannons at them instead. Greymane was nowhere to be seen.

The boy looked back at the battle on the shore. The few remaining defenders had formed a new - much smaller - defensive line and was slowly retreating. The ships at the shore couldn't fire their cannons and arrows, as the beasts were too close to their own troops. And the remaining beasts were starting to surround the defenders and cut off their escape route.

Thinking quickly, he came to a decision. He dashed straight forward, grabbed a rifle out of the hands of an unsuspecting soldier, a crate of gunpowder by one of the cannons, and leapt off over the edge of the wall. He could feel the wind whistling around his ears as he fell like a stone, the ground quickly approaching him. He remembered that one night... When for the first time, the Shadow was the one to bend it's will before him.

He closed his eyes.

 _'If you're in there...'_ He thought. _'I'm about to die. So if you want to make a meal out of me one day... You're gonna help me make it through this mess.'_

There was no response.

Dalrus opened his eyes.

 _'I am not letting my brother and father die.'_

It was fluid, like he'd done it a thousand times before. One moment, he was about to be swallowed by the rotting corpse of an abomination who had fallen over one of the wolf creatures. The next, there was a dark flash, and suddenly he was sprinting over the dead bodies, trying to ignore the brutality of the claw and teeth marks. He had very little time to act.

Looking around, he quickly located his target; one broken down Scourge Destroyer. The wheels were busted and the machine had toppled over. He rushed towards it as fast as he could, then, with a sigh of relief, realised the catapult itself wasn't heavily damaged. It took all his strength to spin the bloody thing over, then drop the crate full of gunpowder on it. He then hesitated, and took the gun in his hands. "Oh... Bummer." He said, realizing he had never shot one of those bloody things before. He rembered seeing the guards doing it countless times in the past few days, so he already had a proper notion. He hesitated, then realized there was no time to waste. It took him a few more moments to properly calculate the trajectory and aim it at the battle going on by the shore line. The defenders were completely surrounded now. They had no hope of escaping, and even if they weren't, there was only sea right behind them. They were meant to hold the line, not retreat. Dalrus took in a deep breath... Then fired the catapult.

The crate spun as it flw, gunpowder flying everywhere. He only hoped the bloody thing wouldn't bust open and spew it's contents everywhere. He raised the rifle and took aim. Then he realized he already knew the path the crate would take. One glance, and he instinctively knew how it would arch, when it would begin to fall down... He closed one eye, and focused. Aiming just a bit lower, he cocked the gun against his shoulder... And pulled the trigger.

The recoil sent him down on his butt on the floor. The gunpowder crate was just a few meters from that slaughter on the shoreline when it was hit by the bullets, then it exploded. Men and beast alike had to recoil from the blast wave. Those closest to it had their fur singed and were yelping in pain. Nearly every single one turned to face the source of the noise. Wihout hesitation, Dalrus hopped on top of the destroyer and began firing the gun upwards as he waved his arms. "OY, FLEABAGS! THAT'S RIGHT, OVER HERE! COME ON, PLENTY MORE FOOD OVER HERE!" He shouted at the top of his lungs.

The plan worked. Many of them bared their fangs, howled in rage and bloodthirst and began running on all fours like animals straight at Dalrus. "Oh... Oh, BUGGER!" He screamed, turning the exact opposite direction and breaking into a mad sprint. "BUGGER, BUGGER, BUGGER, BUGGER, BUGGER ME!" He could hear the howls, barks and growls from behind him. The creatures were fast. As fast as a horse, he wagered. Silverpine forest wasn't too far off to the east, thought most of the trees had been killed or cut down by the Scourge. As he walked, he realized the floor under him felt... Dead. Not even like a desolate wasteland... Somehow, it was even deader than that. Where the Scourge had walked over and sieged for days, the ground had become grey, sterile, absolutely lifeless, as if he were running over a hardened, rotting corpse. Not that he had time to make analogies at the moment, not with a pack of blood-thirsty feral beasts chasing him down. They were closing in fast, he could tell. His tiny human legs were no match for that agility only a creature who had evolved into a true predator possessed.

 _'BUGGER THAT, I DIDN'T SURVIVE A BLOODY ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE TO BE MAWLED TO DEATH BY FREAKING GIANT MANDOGS!'_ He thought, lower his head and redoubling his efforts. _'Come on now, what was it again? Breathe in the shadow... Not too much, just the thinnest layer... The one that looked like a gas...'_ He closed his eyes for just a second. He remembered a lesson Silvius had imparted on him once. _"Alright boy, today I'm gonna teach you a survival lesson."_ He had said as Dalrus pretended not to be distracted by the butterfly that was coming out of a coccoon on the tree behind him. _"Inevitably, someday you're gonna end up doing something very stupid. So now I'm gonne try and give you a way to make it out of there alive."_ Then something about letting the shadow flow through his blood, make him lighter and renew his stamina for a few seconds? But damn, that butterfly was pretty... _'Bloody hell, focus, you cout!'_ He chided himself, then tried to pull in the power from the Void. It was like trying to cup air with his bare hands while his fingers were all spread. He could only inhale a tiny sliver of it. He felt that shadow energy flow through him like oxygen, and immediately he felt the effects. His body cooled down, his lungs stopped burning, and suddenly he was sprinting so fast the wolf beasts were left behind him. His joy was short lived, however. Within seconds, that second wind was over, and exhaustion began to settle in. Fortunately, it had already had the desired effect. He was rather amazed it barely took him one minute to run all the way from a few hundred meters off the shore to the dark, dying woods of Silverpine forest, the woods that surrounded and covered the mountaings around Gilneas.

As soon as he approached the first dead tree, it was pure instinct that saved his life. He heard a buzz coming from behind him, and immediately the boy threw himself onto the ground. The creature that had leapt at him seconds earlier flew over his head and skidded to a halt in front of him, it's thin lupine lips peeled back into a savage snarl, it's yellow eyes staring straight at him full of hunger and bloodlust.

Dalrus had never seen anything like it. From far away they looked like wolves, but this one was standing on two feet like a human. It had legs, a torso, arms thick as his thighs with three long, crooked fingers and a thumb ending in razor-sharp talons. It's body looked almost like a human covered in light brown fur. It was, for some reason, wearing a loincloth around it's waist and cloth bracers on it's forearms. It's head looked almost exactly like a wolf, except that it was larger, with vestigial humanoid features. It's canines were so large, they were sticking out of it's mouth even while it was closed.

The beast leapt forward again, quick as a viper, claws outstreched and mouth wide open. Dalrus shadowstepped and reappered on it's back while it was still in the air. Using it's thick, muscular shoulders as leverage, he leapt forward and resumed the race for his life. There were more closing in now. Soon, dozens would be upon leaping range, just like the one he had barely avoided. Dalrus couldn't simply keep unleashing the power of the Void to sprint and shadowstep at will. The side effects of using it in sequence like that would be almost worse than being eaten alive by those things. And so he ran, hopping over and ducking under the dead trees and stumps that were becoming increasingly thicker as he approached the 'healthy' part of the forest. More of the beasts tried to lunge at him, but now he was able to use the trees to avoid and dodge them. Darkness began to surround him as the tree tops covered the little sunlight that filtered through the dark clouds above, and all he could hear was his own breathing, the howls from all around his back and the dead leaves breaking under his feet.

Desperation was just starting to settle inside his heart when finally, he saw what he was looking for. There was a clearing right ahead. The beasts were almost on top of him now, and he did not dare waste what little focus and stamina he had on another Shadowstep or Sprint. He raced straight into the clearing, already hearing the trees and twigs behind him snap as his chasers finally caught up to the boy. Dalrus leapt forward, entering the clearing... _'All or nothing, don't you dare let me down now!'_ Were the last words in his mouth as he suddenly pulled in the remains of the Void around him like a coccoon, and vanished entirely. As soon as he landed on the ground, he hand to crouch on all fours in order to diminish his noise as much as possible, then he leapt the the side and wrapped his arms around one of the trees. And there, he laid, not daring to breathe, not even think.

To Vanish was different from simply entering stealth. Silvius had explained to him that this was a far more advanced level of stealth. Rather than the thinner, more subtle layers of the Void, he would pull in the darker shades and cover his entire body in them. That would completely dampen all sound he made, as well as hiding his smell. Unless someone deliberately tripped over him, it would be absolutely impossible to determine where he was. The only downside was he was essentially sealed off from the outside world and completely surrounded by a shell of darkness. That meant two things: the voices in his head were louder than ever, and he couldn't breathe. And yet, he still remained right where he was, watching as the wolf-men all came to a skidding halt on the clearing around him. They were all rather confused, most of them lifting their heads and sniffing at the air. Dalrus could see they were all very varied in their fur color and size, though that didn't really matter at that moment. He could feel his lungs starting to burn from the need for air, as well as dark eyes within the Void start to peer down at him. _"Delve too deeply... And you shall be consumed..."_

Slowly - VERY slowly - he began to move. The lack of oxygen only made it feel as if time was slowing down all the more, and his head was starting to feel light. He circled around the tree until he was out of the clearing, then, unable to hold it back anymore, he released that dark shell surrounding him and kept only the bare minimum necessary to mantain his stealth. Dalrus wanted to gasp for air like a drowning victim, but with all his willpower, he managed to only pull in short huffs of air through his nose, his eyes closed as he tried to calm his body down and diminish the expenditure of oxygen. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and and saw one of the wolf creatures face to face with him.

Those deep, yellow glowing eyes stared straight at him. No... Straight through him. It's nostrils flared up, and Dalrus felt it's warm breath wash over him. It looked up at the tree, and Dalrus saw it tense it's powerful legs - and noticed it's feet were actually little dog paws. With a mighty leap, it ended up on one of the branches high above him. Dalrus did not dare to look up. The pack had apparently lost interest in him, and they all began to head... Somewhere. From the way their footsteps were heading, he calculated they were going northwest. Only when the last one vanished in the distance did his knees finally give out and he collapsed onto the floor, sweat trickling all over his face as he took in huge breaths. His heart felt as if it were on his throat, and his eyes were very wide. "Holy... Wow..." He practically squealed, his voice very high pitched. _'Holy Light, I can't believe I made it out of this in one-'_ His thoughts were interrupted as once again his instincts kicked in. He was amazed at how often he managed to cheat death in the past ten minutes, but as that whistling noise came from high above, Dalrus' body was rolling forward before he could even register what was going on. Looking up, he saw three long gashes into the wood, and the beast who had nearly beheaded him was lifting it's head and letting out a howl that echoed all around through the woods around them. In the distance, he could hear the rest of the pack howl in response, then the unmistakeable sound of them closing in. _'Oh... Welp. So much for that.'_ He thought, sighing in exasperation. He reached for his belt and pulled out the new daggers Silvius had presented him the day after Dalrus saved him. _'About time I gave you something of true value, boy.'_ His master had said. These weapons had wickedly curved dark-grey blades, the front sporting three serrated patterns that looked like teeth. _'These bad boys are meant to stab as well as slash. I'm sure you'll make good use of them.'_

Looking down on the elegant weapons, Dalrus was a little sad they would never be put to good use. Then again, that 'good use' would be nothing less than killing other people. Oh, the irony.

The wolf-man interrupted his thoughts as it lunged at him, flailing it's arms and attempting to rend him to gory bits with it's claws. Fortunately, the beast's movements were very easy to read, as it made no attempt to mask it's intentions or feint in any way. It wanted to kill him. It's instincts said the way to do it would be waving those claws around. Simple as that.

Eventually, Dalrus saw an opening. As the beast attempted to sweep him off his feet, Dalrus rolled underneath it's arm - the wind from that vicious strike being enough to send his hair flying - and, getting up just behind it, he lunged forward and stabbed the monster in the back, right where he calculated it's heart would be. His weapon sunk almost all the way to the hilt. He could feel the serrated edge rending muscle and slipping through bones, then his weapon got stuck. The beast went berserk with pain and rage, and flailed about madly. Dalrus had to let go of the dagger and leap back to gain some distance as it began to swipe in all directions in blind rage.

That only made it easier for Dalrus to find another opening. He ran towards the tree to his side, then took about two steps up before jumping off it and over the wolf-man's blind strikes. Landing on the creature's back, Dalrus sank his second dagger in the creature's chest, his other hand curling his fingers through that thick mane of hair that surrounded it's neck for support. The beast let out one final painful yelp - much like a dog who had been kicked - and toppled forward, lifeless.

And then, finally, his adrenaline rush ended. Dalrus felt exhaustion like never before settle in on his young body. He barely had enough strength to pull his weapons out of that beast's corpse when he heard the snarls behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the entire pack had returned. They were all baring his fangs and staring at him, their eyes full of hatred and hunger.

 _'Bummer... Guess this is it.'_ The boy thought, not even having enough strength to sigh. He simply collapsed against the still warm corpse of the wolf-man he had just killed, his legs shaking and incapable of supporting his weight. _'At least I managed to save some people... My life for about.. What, thirty, fourty soldiers? Dad and Fel were there too... Eh, good enough.'_ A sad chuckle escaped him as the beastmen slowly approached. Maybe they were wary? Perhaps they thought this was a trap after he killed one of them? Were they even capable of thoughts like that? Not that it mattered. Many were on all fours, preparing to pounce him. They really were like wolves... They were going to attack as a group. Make sure he wouldn't duck or roll in any direction. _'Oh, man... Mom is gonna be so upset...'_ Were the final thoughts in Dalrus Plaguefang's mind before the air was filled the the sound of gunfire, hooves stomping the ground and men screaming. The beast men all yelped from the ranged assault, the bullets making it impossible for them to advance. They all broke off and began to run away. All around Dalrus, mounted Gilnean soldiers armed with rifles came riding forth, shooting at the creatures as they fled. He saw one in particular stop just next to him, then hop down from his mount. Dalrus' vision was fading, but he managed to see the bearded, eye-patched face of Lord Darius Crowley smiling down at him. "Thank the Light we made it here, lad. Now let's get you home."

Dalrus felt like he could have cried then, but instead he let out a loud, painful moan end threw his head back against the wolfman's corpse behind him. "Light my arse, I'd rather thank you!"


	12. Chapter 12 - Aftermath

_**Chapter 12 - Aftermath**_

"OK, I get that you're trying to do the whole 'mysterious being' vibe here. But come on, you gotta give me something!" Dalrus said in frustration.

"Oh, Dalrus, dearest... You shold know there's a limit to how much I can show you." The ethereal he once knew as Sister Margaret replied. "Your human mind can only take so much, after all!"

He did not know where they were. He felt like he was laying on a soft bed, but when he looked down, all he saw was the infinite darkness with shiny spots randomly glowing all over the place. It was as if he was surrounded by clear night sky in all directions. Margaret was just in front of him, her staff laying sideways and her sitting on top of it in that same postion he had seen so many times in the past; her legs crossed, one hand supporting her elbow as the other supported her face.

"Jeez lady, even in my hallucinations, you can't be open with me?" He grunted, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Hmmm... Well... If I really were a hallucination, I couldn't tell you what you don't know!" Even with her voice sounding like four people talking at the same time in a closed room, Dalrus could still make out her amused tone. "But you do know how dangerously close you came to the Void today. This is the last time I can bring you back from the abyss like this, love. Next time you dive in too far, nothing will be able to help you. You almost attracted the attention of some very dangerous things down there!"

He leaned his head to the side in wonder. "Yeah, about that... Could you maybe tell me something about the Void? As in, why are there so many people using it without going crazy? Like those necromancers?"

"Oh, Dalrus, sweetie..." He could almost see that swirling red galaxy that now passed for her face bending into a smile. "Madness doesn't always mean turning into an incoherent mess of a person. Someone who would willingly serve demons and dedicate their lives to the Cult of the Damned... Sounds pretty crazy to me!"

"OK, but what about the undead then? How can Shadow Magic bring the dead back to life?" He lifted his brows at her. "And don't tell me that's not how it works. I've seen enough junk to know you actually can truly bring someone back to life."

For the first time, he heard her sigh. He wondered how she could do that when she didn't even have lungs. Felt like a rather unecessary way to focus one's magical talents. "Dalrus, now you're stepping into something a little deeper. Infusing something with shadow magic and giving it life is really not that complicated. But to summon a departed soul and bind it to this world... That's just unthinkable. It's not as simple as simply bringing someone back to life. It's a fate even worse than truly dying."

He scratched his head. "So what even is the Lich King? And the Burning Legion? Demons, zombies, crazy wolf people... Why is everything such a mess?

The etheral tapped her metaphorical chin. "Well... The Void is a primordial force. It can be used to alter the fabric of this universe itself. But what you're referring to... That would be closer to the very wheel of fate. So long as life exists, chaos will always be there. So long as even one being is capable of thinking independently, it is inevitable that everything will be thrown out of whack. Imagination is a rather dangerous thing!"

"So... What." He lifted a brow at her inquisitively. "You telling me it's not the darkness' fault everything is the way it is?"

"The Darkness is a force, dear. A tool. It can be wielded by anyone. What it does after that is not it's fault. Things are only as bad as people can make them. True, there are primal evils in this universe. But the titan Sargeras... He was once a force of good. He made a choice. And now the result is all around you." Margaret was hovering closer to him. "Is there anything else you'd like to know? I think I have enough time for one last wonder!"

Dalrus furrowed his brows at her. Placing his hands on his knees, he tried to get up. Looking down, he saw his body was straight, at least. It was difficult to decide what was up or down when you were floating aimlessly amidst an infinite black void. "Yeah... What am I supposed to do with all this junk?"

He heard the amused chuckle resonating within those long straps of cloth surrounding the energy mass that formed her head. "Oh, Dalrus, you should already know that! That us what is so wonderful about the Void... You are free to do whatever you will with it!"

He tried to argue with her about it once more, but something caught on his throat. His hands went to his neck and he was hit by a violent coughing fit. Absolute darkness closed in, blocking all sensation, all thought...

And then he opened his eyes.

Dalrus was laying on his back on what he assumed was a hospital bed. His chest was bare, and there were badages around his waist. Looking down, he noticed he was in a rather spacious room. Many more were laying there with him, most of them moaning in pain and covered in far more bandages than he was. Light was filtering through windows along the walls, and many nurses were scurrying back and forth to try and care for the patients.

 _'Huh... Daylight.'_ He thought, looking out through the window. _'Long time no see, buddy. Where you been?'_ He smirked, then began to sit up against his bed. His body felt fine. He remembered his desperate escape from those wolfmen before losing consciousness... He hadn't been seriously injured. A few cuts and bruises as he ducked and rolled through the dead trees, maybe some massive exhaustion and a tiny bit of dehydration. But he was pretty certain he had escaped the incident unharmed. Then he began to hear a commotion outside;

"...afraid his situation hasn't changed! He's still sound asleep! And I can't have you take up space among the injured soldiers!" A feminine voice was coming from outside, and getting closer. And then he heard the unmistakeable melodious tunes of his angry father screaming. "WOMAN, MY SON IS IN THERE, AND I'LL BE DAMNED IF ANYTHING WILL KEEP ME FROM HIM!" Before long, the door was slammed open, and Dalrus saw Lord Kalthuz storm inside as a very concerned nurse followed on his heels. The expression on his father's face when he saw Dalrus grinning at him from the other side of the room was one the boy would remember forever. "Mornin', pops. What's the word?"

"Dalrus..." His shoulders slumping, Kalthuz rushed forward and knelt besides Dalrus' bed. Taking his son's hand on his own, the man brought the back to his lips, then pressed Dalrus' palm firmly against his forehead as he lowered his head. "Thank the Light, you're alright... When I saw Darius carrying your body on his horse, Light forgive me, I thought..."

"Hey, come now! What kind of rogue would I be if a pack of angry dogs took me down?" His smile wavering for a moment, Dalrus leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his father's neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I'm fine old man, don't worry about me. How are you though? I'll bet fighting those things was a lot worse than running from them!"

Pulling back from the hug, Dalrus saw his father smile warmly down at him. "I'm in one piece, son. And all thanks to you. Blast it, when those things swarmed us, I was ready to call it quits and go down in glory. Next thing I know, all hell is breaking over my head and suddenly the worgen break off and start chasing something across the battlefield!"

"Wait, come again? What you say?" Dalrus blinked. "The what now?"

"Ah, yes. The worgen." Kalthuz nodded. "The king said that's what they are called. Beastial abominations that those blasted mages unleashed. Apparently, Arugal was holding that card in his sleeve. As soon as he let the dogs out of the leash, they turned on the mages and began to kill everything in sight."

Dalrus was reminded of that converstion he had heard not so long ago between the king and the mage...

 _"But can we use them?" The king asked impatiently._

 _"That... Is difficult to determine, my lord." The mage conceded. "They are very brutal. I could summon them from where they lay, but I can't say for sure I would be able to control them..."_

 _"It is enough that we can set them loose upon our enemies." Greymane countered. "I hope to the Light it won't come to this, but should the worst come to pass, I want you ready to let loose those creatures upon the undead. With any luck they will end up wiping each other out."_

 _"As you will, my lord."_

 _'Bloody hell, the old man really did it.'_ Dalrus thought as a chill ran up his spine. _'And now he's dumping the load on Arugal... Crafty.'_ Then again, Dalrus had to admit... As bad as things turned out, at least Gilneas wasn't flooded with walking corpses that moment. "Blimey." He said out loud. "I bet finishing them off wasn't wasy."

Dalrus saw his father draw in breath, then he lowered his head and scratched it's back nervously. "Hmmmm... About that. Those things, they aren't like the undead... Most of them vanished within Silverpine Forest. The rest... They, ah..." Kalthuz sighed, then stared his son in the eyes. "Arugal gathered what he could of the beasts... And took over Shadowfang Keep. The entire place is occupied by the worgen now."

The boy went open-mouthed. He was about to ask more about it when suddenly a nurse, accompanied by two armed guards returned to the room. "There he is, making noise, trouble and getting in the way of the patient's treatment!" As Kalthuz was dragged off kicking and screaming and the nurse began to run a diagnostic on him, Dalrus was lost in deep thought. The Keep to the far northwest was a mighty bastion that managed to hold as much as Gilneas itself against the undead. To think it's occupants were all killed by those savage worgen just as victory amidst that nightmare seemed to be in their grasp...

"Do you feel anything?" The nurse was asking, which broke the boy from his contemplation. "Ah... Yeah. It feels cold. Where's my shirt?" The next few minutes, Dalrus was examined all over, and finally, satisfied, the nurse decided to let him go. He discovered he was being trated at Stoneward Prison, as were most of the injured people. Quickly he made his way down the spiral steps. Finding his father was easy; he just had to follow the ruckus. Kalthuz was about to enter a fistfight with seven heavily armed soldiers when Dalrus emerged from the steps, grinning down at the old warrior. "I'm all good, pops. Just got released. No need to start a new war."

Showering the poor soldiers with a few more threats, Kalthuz begrudgingly walked away with his son. He was wearing a linen tunic, as his clothes couldn't be found after all that mess. "So... Is this it? War's over? Undead are gone, Worgen are in?"

"Aye, so it would seem." Kalthuz sighed, then began to wind his arm a few times as he winced a little. Dalrus realized his father was still wearing his plate armor; both of the pauldrons were missing, a chunk of the armor on his right arm was gone, as was the glove there. There were dried blood stains all over his body, and his sword was missing as well, only the empty scabbard strapped to his back. "At least the worgen aren't actively trying to exterminate us. They look like savage beasts, driven by hunger. At least beasts can be hunted down."

"Dandy. By the way, where's Felrus?" Dalrus looked around as they began to walk the busy streets as if expecting his brother to be waiting for them by the corner. Now that the sun was out and the siege was over, there were many people out and about, cheering in joy, hugging each other and celebrating in general. The soldiers were doing their best to keep the ruckus away from the hospital areas, but they could hear loud music coming from the Cathedral Square all the way from there.

Dalrus saw his father suddenly tense up for a moment, then he picked up his pace and began to march forward which, made Dalrus almost have to run to keep up with the tall man. "Your brother... He's waiting for you at home." Was all he said.

A cold grip took over Dalrus' heart. "Wait... Is he alright? I mean, he's not hurt, is he? He's still OK?"

Kalthuz peered at his son over his shoulder. "What do you think, boy? Of course he is hurt. You don't go to a war without getting hurt. Every blasted person around us is bloody hurt! Now hurry up, your mother is worried sick over you!"

Despite Dalrus' insistence, Kalthuz refused to give him a straight answer about his brother's condition until they arrived back at the manor. It seemed as if, in his haste, his father had forgotten to get a horse; as soon as he saw Dalrus being carried on Crowley's horse, he had dashed straight at them as the noble made his way into the city to get some proper treatment to the boy. That had been yesterday. Time sure flew by fast.

Frustrated at his father, Dalrus began to pay attention to his surroundings instead. People were out and about everywhere. As soon as the worgen had been driven off by Crowley's charge, Greymane gave the news that the Undead had been defeated. The citizens of Gilneas were all partying their hearts out, throwing beer, music and fists everywhere. It brought a smile to his face. _'Bloody hell... We actually made it. Nice.'_ By the time they arrived back at the manor, the loud music and happy, dunken yells could still be heard in the distance. Kalthuz made his way inside, followed closely by Dalrus. A servant hurried forward, making her way towards them and saying: "Thank the heavens you're here! He just woke up! The priest said we shouldn't change the bandages until..."

"Quiet! I'll go see him now! Dalrus, you..." Kalthuz turned around to face his son, but Dalrus simply stood there, with both of his eyes half closed and a brow lifted high in the air as if he were saying: _"Seriously?"_ Kalthuz caught himself mid-sentence, then he let out a tired sigh and nodded. "Blast it, I shouldn't keep you out anyway... Fine. Come with me then." Silently, they made their way upstairs. Felrus' room was just next to Dalrus, on the opposite side of their mother's. As they arrived, Dalrus saw that entire wing of the manor looked very dark, all windows closed. As they entered his brother's room, Dalrus could see that old priest who had birthed him standing up and about to leave. "Well? How is he?" Kalthuz immediately burst out as he stepped forward.

Closing his eyes, the dried up old man shook his head, then said: "I closed the wound. Can't do anything about the scar. But that's not the issue... I don't know what effects those things can have. I felt some strange... Energy in the wound. I can't describe it. It is... Ancient. As ancient as the world itself."

Dalrus was trying to look into the room past the two men arguing by the door without success. "But is it dangerous? Is he going to live, damnit!?" The priest stroked his beart as he pondered the question Kalthuz proposed. "I can tell it is no threat to his life." He finally said. "I don't know what it can do, however. I must go now. Many more people need me. Maybe from their wounds I can get some insight from this." And with that, Dalrus and his father made way for the priest to walk out. Immediately after, Kalthuz slowly stepped inside and approcahed Felrus' bed, which was by the corner of the room besides the closed window.

Unlike Dalrus', Felrus' room was very spacius in the center, as the lad frequently practiced his swordplay there. Bookshelves adorned the walls, with a large desk next to the door where Felrus performed most of his studies. Dalrus had one of those as well, although he couldn't even remember what color his desk was. He mostly used it to drop his cloak on.

Felrus was laying down on the bed, all his armor removed. Like Dalrus had been, the youth was naked from the waist up, except he was covered in far more bandages than Dalrus was. His left shoulder especially sported a huge bandage held in place by cloth straps. He imagined there would be a healing salvo underneath. More bandages wrapped his entire torso and most of his left half. On top of that, his left arm was extended to his side, being held up by a cast from his elbow to his wrist. Another bandage was covering his left eye like an eyepatch, along with most of his face on that side. Looking at his father and brother, Dalrus saw him take in a deep breath and visibly relax against his pillows. "Dalrus... Praise the Light, you're in one piece..."

"Nevermind me, what the bloody hell happened with you!?" Dalrus stepped forward, staring at his brother aghast. "All this... I thought you..." Dalrus slowly squinted at him. "Felrus... What's wrong with your left side?"

"Your brother took a blunt while he fought." Kalthuz cut in. "We all did. Even I got my share of scars. Important thing is, we are all alive after this. And it's all thanks to you, Dalrus. You saved our lives back there."

Felrus' eyes half dropped as if he were too tired to keep his eyes fully open. "Father... It's fine. It's not like we can just hide it forever. He has the right to see it."

Dalrus' heart was now racing within his chest. "See what?"

Felrus was staring at their father. "Father. Dalrus is already grown a lot. After today, we can't treat him as a child any longer. He as the right to see."

Kalthuz run his hand over his dirtied face and sighed. "If that's your will, son... I will respect it. But Dalrus... Don't forget. It's thanks to you that we made it back here in the first place..."

Cold sweat was dripping along his brow now. "Stop beating around the bloody bush and show it to me already!"

Felrus nodded one last time at their father, who nodded solemnly and went forward. Carefully, he unwinded the bandages around Felrus' face. Dalrus felt his heart sink within his chest and took a step back.

The skin was mostly healed by now. He could only imagine how bad it looked earlier. It was all wrinkly and pink starting at his jaw, then up his cheek and ending at his brow. Miraculously, his brother's eye had been spared. He could see the burn scars went down along his neck as well, and he figured his side and arm were also scarred and burned. "This is what I get for fighting without a helmet." Felrus said, launching his younger brother a smile.

"No... Wait... Fel, don't tell me... When I... The gunpowder..." Dalrus' mind was going haywire. He felt numb. His eyes were very wide, and his brows were deeply bent on his forehead. Kalthuz lowered his head, and silently waited for his son to respond.

"I was by the edge of our defensive ring... Right at the corner. One of the worgen had slapped my helmet off. When your distraction went off... I guess I was a little too close for comfort. The heat got my face and neck." Bringing his right hand up, Felrus touched his burned cheek gently. "It feels kind of numb here, but mostly it's cold and itchy."

Dalrus couldn't take his eyes off his brother's scarred face. _'I did this...'_ He thought. _'My brother is scarred for life... And it's my bloody fault.'_ Staring down at the floor, Dalrus brought his hands up into his field of view. He clenched his fingers into fists, then opened them up and spread them. _'What have I done...?'_

"Dal. Look at me." Closing his eyes for a moment, Dalrus lifted his head, but could not look his brother in the eye. "I said look at me, Dalrus." Felrus said more insistently, and Dalrus was forced to look his brother in his deep blue eyes. "I know what you're thinking right now. And you know what? You're absolutely right. It is your fault that I am like this."

Dalrus pressed his lips firmly together, trying to hold back his tears. He then closed his eyes and slowly turned away. "Yeah... You're right." He said in a weak voice. "I'll just-"

"I'm not finished. Look at me, brother." Dalrus was already starting to step away when Felrus called him out again. Turning around, he saw Felrus' gaze never left Dalrus', a stern expression on his young face. "It is absolutely your fault... That I am still alive. It is your fault that I made it out of that battle bruised and scarred... Instead of a corpse. It is your fault that me and twenty eight other men came home to our families. It is your fault that none of us was murdered and eaten by those monstrosities. It is your fault that our mother still has two children to embrace, even if one of them is going to carry a scar on his face for the rest of his life. It is your fault, Dalrus, that me, and our father, did not die on that day, when the enemy was defeated and a new one turned on us. So don't you dare look away from my face ever again. Because this is the face of someone who will forever be indebted to you. The face of a person whose life you saved." And finally, Felrus smiled at his brother, tears starting to leak out of the corners of his eyes. "Or do you seriously believe I'd rather be killed and devoured by those bloody wolf men that sit here on this bed with just a scar on my face, you bloody twit?"

Dalrus himself was crying now. Kalthuz was smiling just as Felrus was, the very same tears of emotion streaming down his old, rugged face. "You think we would just forget this? Dalrus... A scar is a very cheap price to pay for victory. It may damage his looks, but your brother will survive. As will I. As will every single person in the batallion that we fought alongside of. We were all ready to accept death. And it is thanks to you that we didn't have to. So when you look back on this... Proudly remember that you didn't think twice before putting your life on the line to save us. And I have never been so proud of you, my son. Both of you."

Unable to hold himself back, Dalrus raced ahead and threw himself at his father's arms. Kalthuz then leaned forward and pulled Felrus into it as well. Locked in that tight embrace, the three men cried out all the tension of the past few days. That dark threat over the horizon. The seemingly endless battle. All those horrible deaths they witnessed. The monsters they killed... But now, finally, that threat was over. They were, at long last, safe.

 _"Are you so certain the threat is over?"_

Dalrus' eye twitched.

 _"You won the battle... But you know... The war goes on. To the far west, it goes on... The threat that your king refuses to acknowledge. The burning flame that will consume your world."_

 _'Will you give it a bloody rest? I'm having a moment here!'_

 _"Enjoy this moment then, young one... Make it last... For you shall never again savour one as such."_

 _'What the bloody hell do you know, you're just a voice in my head!'_

"Dalrus..." His brother was speaking. Dalrus opened his eyes and looked at Felrus. "Thank you, brother. Truly. I swear one day, I'll pay you back tenfold for what you've done for us today."

"Yeah, well..." Dalrus wiped his tears and stood up, trying to muster up a cocky smile. "Let us all hope the need for that don't show up anytime soon, eh?"


	13. Chapter 13 - Shadow of the Legion

_**Chapter 13 - The Shadow of the Legion**_

A week passed. Things did get better... But at the same time, worse. Reports were coming in from the inhabitants of Ambermill and Pyrewood Village. Reports of missing people, howls during the night... Especially at the Shadowfang Keep. An incursion was sent to try and rid the place of the infestation, but they all changed their minds very quickly when, allegedly, 'a warg the size of an ellek scared off the horses, forcing us to retreat.'

Due to the threat of worgen attacks at night, a curfew had been put into place. No one was allowed outside after the sun went down. The guard had increased, and repairs to the wall had already been finished. Things were finally coming back to normal.

Felrus' arm healed rather quickly. His face did not change much... But for some reason, he still wore a pad over his right shoulder. "Ah, this?" He had said when Dalrus inquired about it. "It's still sore... I think one of the beasts bit me there. Who knows what's into those fangs? The priest gave me some good medicine, and I've been applying it regularly... But I think I'm starting to grow hair there!"

Now that the war had literally knocked on their gates, many people - Darius Crowley especially - were loudly demanding that Gilneas took part in the greater battle. The call from Jaina Proudmoore was still fresh in their minds, and many were asking for the army to be deployed. Many more, however, were doing the exact opposite - hundreds of people were killed or injured. King Greymane was adamant that they should ready themselves should the undead attack them once more. Kalthuz' father was beside himself.

"THE BLASTED OLD FOOL WOULD HAVE US WAIT UNTIL THOSE MONSTERS RECOVER AND ATTACK US AGAIN!?" He had screamed as he flipped his desk and Dalrus chewed on an apple and his brother sat quietly by his side. "HOW ABOUT WE JUST LEAVE THE BLOODY GATES OPEN NEXT TIME AND SPARE THEM THE TROUBLE!?"

"Father... You can't deny that we must continue to protect our home." Felrus had said. He did absolutely nothing to hide the burn scar on the left side of his face, except maybe for the fact his long red hair partially hid a fair portion of his jawline. "If we are attacked after sending the main army off, we would be anihilated. There would be no home to return to."

"Blast it, Felrus! There's a difference between being cautiesand doing absolutely nothing!" Kalthuz sat down on his chair and stared at his overturned desk. "Has he learned nothing? Are we to simply wait for the next attack? Bugger it all! We should move. We should act. This Jaina... She's said what we need to do. Where we must go. We have ships in our docks, we could send just one battalion, at the very least! What are we waiting for?"

"Old Greybeard don't wanna waste no troops." Said Dalrus with a mouthfull of apple. He swallowed, then seid: "After that fiasco with the worgen, and Arugal going mental and nesting up inside the Keep, he's gonna hole up more than ever. I mean, the guy thinks we are invincinble so long as we got this here wall. Though not being allowed outside after sunset is a bloody pain in the arse."

"The people are growing restless... Many don't know, or understand what the worgen are." Felrus sighed and crossed his arms. "Crowley is speaking of tyranny... And I even heard a few whispers about taking some radical action about it. Last thing we need right now is a civil war, though."

"I think we should-" Kalthuz began to speak, but then there was a knock on the door. A second later it opened, and Silvius peeked his head in. "Howdy. Hope I'm not interrupting."

"What the- I locked the bloody door!" Kalthuz almost screamed, his hands curling into fists.

"Yeah, I noticed. That was cute. Anyway..." Stepping inside, and taking a glance at the flipped over desk in the middle of the room, Silvius put what appeared to be a long silver bolt back inside his pocket. "You got a visitor."

"Do I look like I'm taking any bloody visitors right now, Silvius!? You get the hell out of my study and don't you pick any more locks within my house!" Dalrus could see a vein was pulsing on his father's head. He took another bite of his apple.

"Oh... Well, alright then. Up to you." Then, stepping outside, he spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear: "Sorry, Darius. He's not willing to see anyone. Come another time, eh?"

All color left Kalthuz' face, then he scrambled forward so quickly he tripped over his upturned desk and broke one of it's legs off. Cursing under his breath, he hopped to the doorway and shouted: "WAIT! Darius, one moment...!"

Minutes later, Dalrus, Felrus and Silvius were laying on the couch as Lord Kalthuz and Darius Crowley hugged each other and chatted. "Bloody hells, it's wonderful to see you! I didn't even have the chance to thank you for rescuing Dalrus!"

Crowley took off his hat and smiled at the old warrior. "As if I could stand still as the lad went and risked his neck off on his own. He showed more courage then a lot of people thrice his age..." And here the man turned to face Dalrus. "You earned my respect, son. Even if Genn had kept the gates closed, I'd jump after you myself if I had to."

Dalrus lifted his apple in saluted and nodded as he continued to chew. "Aye, thanks for saving my neck back there. Really owe you one, Mister Crowley."

"No need for formalities between us, lad." Crowley said with a curteous nod and a friendly smile. He then turned to Dalrus' brother. "And how are you, Felrus? How's your face feeling?"

"Cold at times, sir. But other than that, I was told there's no nerve damage. Fortunately, other than looking ugly, there were no lasting effects." Felrus stood up and stepped forward, his hand outstretched. Crowley gladly shook it, saying: "I don't know about that. I've met a fair share of ladies who are rather fond of war scars, my boy. Don't be ashamed to show that you were a real fight and lived to tell the tale." Felrus chuckled. "I'll take those words to heart, sir. Thank out."

Once Felrus sat down, Silvius, who was laying against the edge of the couch with one elbow over the armrest and his chin resting upon his fist, said: "And I'm also fine, by the way."

"Ah... Yes. I figured it would be folly to ask, Silvius." Crowley grinned at the old rogue, who scoffed, then became more interested in wiping his nails against his dark leather tunic. FInally, Crowley faced Kalthuz once more, his expression becoming more serious. "Old friend... I have some heavy words to share with you. Shall we go someplace more secure?"

Kalthuz looked back at his family on the couch, then back at Darius' face. "My son Felrus has every right to hear as much as I do, old friend. And I'm afraid we could go to the ends of hell itself and still those two would find a way to eavesdrop, so we might as well keep them around this time."

"He's not wrong." Silvius casually said as he admired his nails.

Crowley hesitated for a moment, then an amused expression took over his face and he shook his head. "Very well, then. I trust you, Plaguefang. So if you believe your family trustworthy as well, I shall believe you." Taking in a deep breath, he stared into Kalthuz' face and declared: "I am sending a brigade to aid in the war against the Legion. The ship leaves tomorrow at dawn. I am sending them under the banner of the 'Gilneas Brigade.' Genn has already forbidden it, but I can no longer sit cross-armed. If he won't take action, then I will. Are you with me?"

Dalrus saw his father's chest inflate as a light gleamed in his eyes. He had just placed his hands on Crowley's arms and opened his mouth when suddenly his eyes shifted to the three men sitting on the cough. His eyes then shifted to a wall to their side, and Dalrus knew that direction was his mother's room. Then the old man closed his eyes, smiled shook his head and took a step back. "Nothing would give me more pleasure, my friend... After all you have done for me, gladly I would risk this life of mine for your ideals, and our land. But I'm afraid there's something greather that keeps me here. I must ensure that the land my children will grow on, and my wife will grow old, remains safe and intact. I am sorry, but I must stay."

Crowley nodded at that, his one good eye staring at Khaltuz. "I understand, my friend. You needn't say any more. Well, then... I must be off. I still have many others to speak with. Wish you good fortune, Khaltuz. Be well." And with that, he put has hat back on his hat, nodded farewell to the other people in the room, and began to leave. Dalrus already knew what was going to happen then, so he leaned to the side just the moment before Felrus suddenly jumped up and said: "I'll go."

Khaltuz frowned at him. "Felrus, you are still recovering from your injuries. You are in no condition."

"Father, I can still hold my sword. I can still raise my shield. And I can still hold a line alongside my fellow soldiers." He turned to face Lord Crowley. "Sir, all my wounds are superficial. Nothing hinders me from battling. Let me join you!"

"Don't you turn your back on me, boy! I am not going, and neither are you! You have a duty to fulfill!" Khaltuz snapped, then as he began to march towards Felrus he tripped over his desk once more and broke another one of it's legs. "MOTHER-"

"Father, I understand your concern. I, too... I have felt it. But now... I am experienced. I am no longer a green boy in the battlefield. I can help make a difference. I know how to fight the undead now... Both in defense, and offense. They will need me!" His expression was fairly determined. "You said it yourself... We should be ending the bigger threat. This is our chance! We can truly end this war! I can go and make sure the undead won't threaten Gilneas ever again!"

"Lad... I won't lie." Crowley turned around to confront Felrus. "This battle... It won't be anything like the past few days. This time, we had our home field advantage, and the safety of our walls. But now... We are taking the fight to them. And it won't be just the undead. Demons... The Burning Legion itself. There's no shame in backing down from a fight like this. It's not the kind of thing mere mortals like us should be meddling with."

Felrus did not seem deterred, however. He closed his eyes for an instant, then looked at his father, then Crowley with renewed determination. "I know. But I can't just sit still and wait for them to come to us. I have to do this... My part in this war. To defend my land. My home... My very world."

Khaltuz let out a deep, long sigh and wiped the sweat off his face as his other hand rested upon his hip. "Listen to you... It's already plenty different from those words we heard a year ago. You've matured faster than you should, son... But war tends to do this to people." Letting out a sad little chuckle, he stepped over his ruined desk and embraced Felrus. "Son... You're a man already. As your father, I wish you to remain here by your family in safety... But your sense of justice must speak louder. I have fought by your side, I have bled and killed on the battlefield alongside you. I know you're capable. If you feel your place is there, then I have no right to stop you. I ask only that you make it back in one piece."

Hugging his father tightly, Felrus was silent for a few moments. Then, finally, he whispered: "I will make you proud, father. And I will make sure our home is safe."

"Yeah, sorry to cut your little love moment short, but..." Silvius's sarcastic voice cut through the air like a whip. "You do realize... Greymane is gonna flip out when he hears about this. He may not tally up all the people who left, but he sure as hell will know who's behind it. Don't think you'll make it out of this one scot-free, Darius."

The nobleman straightened his back. "I am well aware of this. And I will face the consequences without regrets. If Genn is truly so blind as to see my actions as those of a traitor... Than so be it. I have made peace with my choice."

Dalrus was idly spinning the core of the apple on top of his finger, now that he had finished eating the whole thing. "So... What time you leaving tomorrow, bro?" He casually asked, his eyes fixated upon the remains of the fruit.

"Ah, yes... Be prepared before sunrise, lad. I want to be on the waters by dawn already, but I don't want to deny anyone the opportunity to join." Crowley said. "It will be a long and harsh trip through the ocean... Make your preparations. We will gather at the pier when the time comes. Now, if you'll excuse me..." And with that, the nobleman left.

"The sea, eh..." Dalrus flipped the core high into the air, then smacked it towards the garbage can by the corner of the room. It landed without a hitch.

"Yes... Kalimdor... The forgotten lands to the west." Felrus looked out through the window. Sheer cliffs hid Kel Harbor from sight, but still, hearing the crashing waves against the sheer cliffs that surrounded Gilneas was no issue. "I'll go prepare immediately. Father... Dalrus... Uncle..." And with that, he left as well.

"Welp. That was a fun exchange. I'd offer to go myself, but I'd rather not get killed and eaten by demons. Besides... There's a ton of work around here as is. Something about a warg the size of an ellek up there in the Keep... Arugal's little pet, they call it. Be seeing you." And then, he, too, got up and left.

Dalrus stared at the mortal remains of his father's desk, then looked up at the man himself. "And you're OK with this?"

Khaltuz took in a deep breath, then squatted down and began to pick up the splintered pieces of his desk's legs. "Blast it, boy... Of course not. I have fought demons before. I have fought wars before. I have seen many people die, and I killed many others. War... Dalrus, it's not a place where you win or lose. It's a place where you try to survive. And you can't survive a war unless you sacrifice something." The old warrior sighed and stared at the broken wood piece in his hand. "Some of us get scars. Others lose our wills. Some people lose their humanity. Many more lose friends, companions... Something precious. No one makes it out of war unscarred, son. We all change, and we all lose something. But unless we do that... We will end up dying." He peered out through the window by his side. "It's a bloody, nasty mess, I'll tell you that. But at least the orcs were fighting for something, you know? Believe it or not... They also have families. Wives, children. They were helping defend something that was important to them in some way. But the demons... The undead... The only thing they fight for is fighting itself. They don't think about it, they just go and do it. It's their nature, it's what they do. And that, son... Is why I think no matter how big a threat, we will always come out on top." He finished tossing the wood splinters on top of his table and stood up wiping his hands. "Because me, you, your brother, the king, everyone... We all fight for something we love."

A sad smile took over Dalrus' face. "Sacrifices, eh... I think I know a thing or two about that." He hopped off the couch and stood up. "Well, then. Guess I'll go... Yeah." Waving at his confused father on his way out, Dalrus strutted down the hallway. The Plaguefang Estate was as it always had been. The servants were cleaning, preparing meals... Dalrus could see one returning from the river with a basket full of freshly washed clothes. The sun was high in the sky, marking the middle of the afternoon.

Dalrus made his way outside, through the backyard. His little training ring was still there. It was odd to see everything undamaged and in it's original state after all hell broke loose for the past few weeks. He remember how he single-handedly saved the city from a demonic ritual. He pulled one of his daggers from his belt and idly threw it up and down, pondering. He had been very happy when his father had presented them back to him days ago, saying that Crowley had pulled them out of the carcass of the worgen he had killed. They had been sharpened and kept in perfect condition.

"And you're OK with this?" Came a voice from his side. Dalrus didn't need to look to know Silvius was laying against the tree, maybe looking down at poisoned daggers in his hand.

"It's his life. If he wants to go, that's his choice." Dalrus said, now twirling the blade back and forth between his fingers. "I'm not gonna try to stop him this time."

"Based on what happened last time, you're more likely to make sure he's not going by doing that." Silvius chuckled, then Dalrus heard the man land silently on the ground and began to approach him. "I know this isn't anything new to you, boy, but... Good work. You saved a lot of lives that day."

"What, aren't you gonna smack me across the head and say something like... 'What the hell were you thinking, you blimmerin' idiot!? Jumping off the wall and getting a pack of worgen to chase you!?'" He smiled up at his master, now tucking his dagger back against his belt.

"Well... I suppose I should. But then again... If you couldn't even make it out of a situation like that alive... I would be one lousy master for you, wouldn't I?" Silvius was now standing next to Dalrus. The old rogue had his hands on his pockets, gazing towards the horizon over the wall. "You put your training to use. You did what you thought was right. In the end, everything turned out fine. I guess I'm past the point of telling you how to live your own bloody life." They both looked over their backs towards the Plaguefang Estate. All windows were open now, and Dalrus could even see his mother peering out of her window down at them. They both waved, and as they did so, Silvius said: "You know, she pulled off the same trick once."

Lifting a brow, Dalrus turned to his uncle. "Oh, really?"

Nodding, Silvius said: "Yeah. Long time ago, your father's platoon was holding a key position against the orcs. But they were cut off. It was a sheer cliff, so despite the size of the orcish horde, his small force could still hold them off without getting surrounded. But it was just a matter of time before they were overpowered. So your mother goes and sets explosives around the cliff above. She creates a landslide with the explosion, and most of the orcs get swept down. Only problem was she was also cut off from her retreat. So your father goes and single-handedly pushes his way through an orc battallion to rescue her afterwards. And that's how things began to get all sweet between the two."

A soft chuckle escaped the boy once the story was over. "Yeah, well, don't worry. I don't intend to get sweet and lovey with any of the people I rescued." They both watched as Lady Dallys continued to peer out her window for a few more minutes. Eventually she came back inside, leaving the boy a little sadder. "You think we can actually do this? I mean... Win this war?" He said after a while.

His master took a few moments to respond, a time during which he stroked his short-bearded chin. "Hmmm... I have no doubt we will make it through, boy. But to actually win the war... The thing about a war is, you never really win it. It's all a cycle. We beat an enemy, another one shows up. Another threat to the world. Then something really big shows up, and we put aside our differences for a moment so we can take down that threat. As soon as that's over with, we turn on each other once more. That's how Warcraft works, boy. It just never really ends."

Dalrus scratched his head. "Hmmm. Sounds like a really repetitive game." He comments.

"Somewhat. But then there's this fun little thing about it... Each new war, there are new elements in it. New enemies, new weapons, and even new places to fight over. Keeps things fresh and interesting, eh? Your brother is off to a new continent now. Who knows when we'll be fighting this Legion again?" Silvius let out a dry little chuckle. "Almost wish I could go along. But I got my hands full enough as is over here. Those damn worgen won't handle themselves. Or maybe they will, I'll be buggered if I know how those beasts work."

"Hmmmm... Yeah, I guess we do have a pack of crazy wolfmen living in our outskirks now." Dalrus shivered as he remembered the big brown one he had killed that day. "I sure hope Arugal unleashing them against the undead doesn't end up coming back to bite us in the arse any more than it already has."

"Yeah, you said it. Anyway, I'll leave you to your things now. Like I said, tons of stuff to do." Silvius patted Dalrus on the shoulder as he began to walk back towards the Estate, leaving the boy alone. Much like his master, Dalrus placed his hands in his pockets, then he closed his eyes and leaned his face up. Sunlight washed over his eyelids, making everything look red. He could feel the warmth spread over him. A smile crept up on his lips. _'This sure feels nice.'_ He thought.

 _"Bask in the Light while you can... Soon, all will be in Shadow."_

 _'Bloody hell, mate. Are you just gonna show up and say random dark things each time I close my eyes now? Because sooner or later one of us is gonna have a problem with this attitude.'_

 _"The Legion comes from the Void itself. It will never die. Their essence returns to the Twisting Nether, then reforms to once again invade other worlds. You cannot win. They cannot be defeated."_

 _'Yeah, yeah, I heard this story before. Despite that, if we kill enough of their critters, eventually we'll strike a blow at their leader. That's gotta count for something, eh?'_

 _"You only prolong the inevitable. Your end can be delayed... But it will come."_

 _'Well, then! Maybe if I delay it long enough, I'll be able to leave up to my kids, eh? Now be a good voice in my head and be quiet for a moment. The sun feels really nice today.'_

 _"You cannot escape the Shadow. All you hold dear will be consumed."_

 _'Funny story, mate. Now zip it.'_

 _"The power of the void will-"_

 _'I SAID BLOODY ZIP IT!'_

He opened his eyes.

The sun was still high in the sky. Light and warmth spread all around the grass that surrounded him.

But to the far west, over the cliffs that surrounded Gilneas, over the walls that protected them...

Dalrus could see that a dark cloud was forming over the distant sea.


	14. Chapter 14 - His second departure

_**Chapter 14 - His second departure**_

It was still dark. Crickets could be heard all around them, as could toads and early birds. On top of all that, of course, was the heavy thudding sound of dozens of armed men marching with all of their equipment as they headed for war.

Felrus' armor had been repaired and polished in the days that followed their victory on the Siege of Gilneas. He had gotten new pauldrons - the right one being about two sizes bigger than the previous one. The bite scar on his shoulder didn't quite feel like it was getting worse, but... Was his shoulder swelling? He had poured all of the medicine the priest had given him at once. He felt like that was slowing that swelling down, but now he was completely certain it was making hair grow there, as a thick layer of white body hair had formed around the bite mark and was starting to spread towards his neck and chest. He did not think much of it, however. Not like it was hindering him in any way. If any, he actually thought his arm felt stronger, like his muscles were growing thicker there. Maybe there were some side effects to a worgen bite after all?

His shield was strapped to his back. It was an impressive protective piece; it was round at the top, with a spiky, triangular edge at the bottom. The front sported a metallic indent of house Plaguefang's crest; two crossed blades, one long and with a jagged edge, the other curved like a sickle. It represented how the Fang sought to destroy and rend the enemies, while the Plague was designed to disarm them and strike at precise spots. Strapped to his waist was his sword. It was a simple, yet elegant weapon. Normally, against heavily armored opponents, swords weren't very effective weapons; penetrating plate was a task for piercing or bludgeoning arms. But as he would be facing more undead and demons, he had decided in favor of keeping that weapon. It was a medium-sized steel blade with a simple iron hand guard. The handle was a hand and a half long with a short iron spike at the bottom so he could pommel enemies at a close range.

The rest of his armor was rather standard equipment; other than his paluldrons, he wore thick plate around his chest and waist, with that red tabbard of his nation over it. His arms sported gauntlets, and knee-high boots adorned his feet. His thighs and arms were covered by chain mail to allow him some mobility, and over it were another more loose straps of plate. His new helm was inside of his bag, along with provisions for the trip. And that was all he carried.

Felrus was rather used to holding few possessions by now. Anything other than what he was wearing or was absolutely necessary for his survival was only dead weight. He doubted there would be many moments he wouldn't wear his armor, if his past experiences fighting the Undead Scourge were any indication. There was little point in taking spare clothes either. Hygiene was something to keep in mind, of course, but when his enemy were literal rotting corpses and siege weapons that threw diseased limbs at his army, a clean spare set of clothes was only to provide comfort rather than health. Spare weapons were always readily available at the barracks, as was spare armor. The food he was taking was just to make sure he would last the voyage.

He felt a little nervous about the long trip... He had never been to the sea before. Especially not for as long as getting to Kalimdor would take. He took in a deep breath, and focused on the task at hand. The burn scar on his face tingled a little as the cool morning wind came from the sea... That sensation brought a smile to his lips. He could still very vividly remember those terrible moments at the beach. His shield arm almost trembling from exhaustion as he tried to push those monsters back, his arm being thrown over his head again and again as he stabbed them over the edge of his protection. His companions screaming, the worgen snarling and howling all around them... Then that horrible moment where a black shadow appeared from his left and, next thing he knew, he was laying down on the ground, his ears ringing as his helmet laying on the ground before his eyes. Then that sharp pain on his shoulder as the worgen tore his armor off and bit down on him. Then, a yelp of pain, and his father offering his hand to help him up... And then that deafening explosion from their right. That searing pain on his face as he was pushed forward against his father, men and worgen alike falling down... And all of a sudden, the beasts were gone. Felrus was laying down on the ground clutching his face and watching as the wolfmen chased after a dark figure far, far away from them, luring the whole pack away...

Only much later, after Darius Crowley walked out of the remains of Silverpine Forest carrying his unconscious brother did Felrus realized it had been Dalrus who saved him. He was told the boy was exhaust and bruised, but sported no life threatening injuries. Unlike Felrus, he needed only rest. And ever since then, each time the scar on his face hurt, it made Felrus smile. That pain was the most wonderful sensation for him. It was as if his body was reminding him he was still alive. Thanks to his little brother, he did not die on that day, forgotten amidst the sands and trampled over those feral monsters. He had no doubt Dalrus would rise to surpass even their uncle one day. And when he came back from this last war... Maybe he would make a world his little brother would never truly need to put those skills to work again. If not... He knew that, together, they would be truly invincible.

His cheery thoughts were brought to a short when Keel Harbor came into view. There were dozens of people there already. But they were few... Less than fifty, perhaps? He hoped more would come, but knew it was a vain thought. Greymane had been adamant about their position in this war. The only people going were those whose loyalty to Lord Crowley surpassed that towards their king. They might be calling themselves 'The Gilneas Brigade' but in reality they were basically Crowley's personal regimen.

Three large ships awaited them. The sails sported Gilneas' banner over them, thought that was barely visible in that deep darkness that preceded the sunrise. Despite that, Felrus could make out the unmistakeable figure of Lord Darius Crowley standing on his horse by the pier. He could only imagine how much influence or money was required to make that work. Just the act of getting the proper navigation charts alone would have been quite the ordeal, though he suspected his uncle had had something to do with it. Unfortunetely, they had no means of establishing contact through magic, as Arugal was still holed up within the Keep. A shiver went through Felrus' spine as he remembered the awful tales of people and livestock vanishing during the night. The worgen were still out there... The thought made his shoulder itch a little. He wished he could do something about it, but even if he could remove his pauldrons now, his gauntlets made for a poor scratching tool.

They were as silent as possible, as no one wanted to warn the city guards. It took about half an hour to properly assign people to one of the three ships, then even more to account everyone and finish loading the provisions for the trip. By the time the last man was embarquing, the sun was already rising on the horizon over the mountains surrounding the kingdom.

Finally, Darius Crowley himself stood before the boats along with the three captains. Falrus couldn't hear their conversation, but he figured they were discussing the final bits of details for their voyage. He was on his ship's deck now - The Silver Fang, he heard the vessel was called - his sack laying down on the ground next to his feet as he leaned over the balcony's edge. The floor under his feet was swaying, and the whole world felt like it was shaking up and down. Truthfully, it was starting to make him feel nauseous. He really wished they would leave as soon as possible... And just then, bells began to sound in the city.

Everyone was alarmed. All men turned to face the city to their east in worry, but soon they saw knights on horse back racing towards them. It would seem as if their little escapade had been uncovered. Felrus heard Crowley shout something to the captains, then suddenly turn around and race to meet the knights coming towards them. Felrus hesitated for a brief moment, unsure of what to do. Then he began to make his way towards the plank connecting their ship to the pier. He was almost there when the ship's captain suddenly stood in his way. "Where ye' think ye' goin', lad? Make yourself useful and get downstairs to get the oars movin'! We leavin' right now!"

Felrus blinked in surprise. "But, Sir Crowley-"

"Lord Crowley gave the order to go without him. And we be obbeyin' before old man Greymane throws us in the galleys. Now move yer arse before I shove it off the starboard!" And with that, the man uncerimoniously pushed Felrus out of the way and proceeded to the captain's cabin, shouting orders to his sailors and the soldier crew the whole time. Felrus spared one last look back at the lone Darius Crowley who was quickly approaching the Gilnean knights before he grabbed his sack and rushed below decks as fast as possible.

The smell of wet wood, sweat and Light knows what else had died there filled his nostrils. But after months fighting things that really were dead and decaying, he barely registered that scent that at best qualified as annoying. Many of the soldiers were already in position along the rows, their fingers curled around the long oars that had just been lowered into the water outside. The quartermaster was also shouting orders, and Felrus decided to join the people who were spinning the wheel that would weigh their anchor up.

The next few minutes passed quickly. Once the ancher was properly lifted, Felrus took his place on the bench and, to the rythm of a drum, began rowing. The heavy physical labor felt good to him; it helped ease that tingling, warm sensation on his shoulder. He focused on his breathing, on the rythm of their movements, on the grunts of the many men and women who surrounded him, all ready and willing to defend their kingdom.

He couldn't tell for how long they remained there, or even how far they went. But at one point, the order came to retract the oars and unfurl the sails. Sweat was trickling down Felrus' brow when they finally finished, and he stood up along with the rest to head upstairs and check out the situation outside.

They were far off the coast of Gilneas now. He could see the Headlands; the small peninsula on the very edge of the kingdom. Crowley and the Gilneans sent to intercept them were nowhere to be seen. He could only hope Lord Crowley wouldn't get into too much trouble for his actions... But he also knew that had been an act of direct defiance towards Greymane. If the truth came out, he could be charged with treason... Or worse.

"Old Greymane ain't gonna like this." Said Stanley, one of the soldiers who also decided to join them for the trip to Kalimdor. Just like Felrus, he was the heir to his house, and was just a couple years older. He too was drenched in sweat and sea water from all the intense rowing below decks. The lad was a bit shorter than Felrus was, with a thinner face and smaller nose. "Business between him and Crowley were tense enough as is. This could be the spark to blow the casket."

"They have always reached diplomatic solutions before..." Felrus said, resting his elbows over the wooden railing to steady himself and cool down a bit. "And i know that Crowley isn't happy about the worgen wondering around Silverpine and attacking his people. They say that during the last full moon, people were hearing howling all over the place, and farm animals reportedly went missing. Not just that... But several people went missing too. Most of them, soldiers who were fighting the worgen on the ground with us." As he said that, Felrus' hand inconsciously went for his shoulder. "You think they began chasing the people they marked? Like... Hunters, seeking their prey?"

"You really think they are smart enough to pull of a trick like that?" Stanley scratched his head in confusion, his gaze sweeping over the horizon and watching Gilneas grow smaller and smaller in the distance. "From where I was, they just looked like beasts who knew how to walk like people. No intelligence behind those hungry eyes, that's for sure. Speakin' o' which, my old man asked me to thank your brother again. He really saved the day for him and the rest of the squad."

This made Felrus smile as he brought his hand towards the burn scar on his face. "Don't I know that... I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if it weren't for him. We would have been torn apart, or eaten alive, or both." Felrus looked towards the general direction of the Plaguefang Estate, which already had vanished entirely in the distance. He wondered what Dalrus would be doing then. Perhaps resuming the training with their uncle? Felrus' nose wrinkled a bit as he rememberd their mother's brother. Uncle Silvius had always been a vague, mysterious figure for him. He never interacted much with the man, and when he did, he would always offer the proper formality rather than familiar casualty. Even his father said he could never tell what was going on inside that man's head. He was reminded of what Khaltuz told him the day Felrus inquired about what kind of person his uncle was. _'You see, son, in this world, there are three kinds of people. Those who are free to come and go as they please, those who aren't... And those who are capable of coming and going as they please, regardless of allowings. Your uncle fits in the third category. The kind of person who's climbed the way up from the bottom, not letting anyone stop them or tell them what to do. But that's also the kind of woman your mother is. Those two are more alike than I care to admit. Maybe you got a few of that in you as well, eh?'_ Although Felrus was very sure he had very little of that side of the family's... Capability... He had no doubt that was exactly the kind of person Dalrus was becoming. He still couldn't believe his little brother had jumped all the way down from the wall, then used an explosion to draw the worgen away from them. "I will miss him greatly. But I know that when I get back, he won't be the same as before."

"Speaking of that..." Stanley took a quick glance around to make sure no one was eacesdropping on the conversation, then leaned in closer, one hand covering his mouth as he spoke in a hushed thone; "This isn't the first time you're leaving him behind, right?"

Felrus had to control himself so as not to form a fist with his hand. Fortunately, all his past experiences had taught him to keep a tight control over his emotions. Not even looking back to face his friend, he spoke in a casual tone: "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on now, Fel... We heard the rumours. 'Bout a year ago, your father and brother stirred up some trouble by the gates... And up until recently, I really don't recall seeing much of you in the meetings. Your father always gave us the slip whenever someone asked about it, but we aren't stupid..." A mischievous grin was forming on the lad's mouth as he stared at Felrus expectantly. "You did it, didn't you? You slipped under the wall and went off to fight!"

Felrus tapped his fingers against the railing, his eyes lowering to the pristine water below. He could see the waves crashing against the board as the ship was propelled forward by the wind against it's sails. He then rubbed his temples and sighed. "Eh, I guess now it doesn't matter much anymore, since we're all basically traitors at this point... Yeah. I managed to go and fight in the war for a whole year."

"Holey... A whole year!? Fighting those things, out there?" Stanley covered his mouth in surprised, then looked around to make sure still no one was eavesdropping. "No wonder you didn't so much as flinch when those things showed up for the first time! You already knew what to expect, how to fight them! What was it like? Where did you go? Come on, tell me!"

"Be quiet, you!" Felrus almost hissed. "Look, it was no grand, noble adventure, alright? It... The things I saw... It wasn't pretty. Not in the least." He sighed, then ran his gloved fingers up along his hair. "The undead, they... They are a plague, in every sense of the word. They arrive at a place, they kill everything they touch, they spread, and look for more to kill... And for every person they kill, that's another one added to their ranks."

Stanley nodded, now he, too, lowering his elbows against the railing and scooting up closer to Felrus to make sure their conversation wouldn't be overheard. "Did you see any of them? You know... The demons? Or prince Arthas?"

Felrus hesitated, then, avoiding eye contact with his friend, he nodded. "Yeah... Yeah, I saw demons... And I saw Arthas too. Before he..." Felrus was about to say 'went insane,' but thinking back on it, hadn't it been there all along? Ever since Andorhall, or maybe even before that, he knew something had snapped inside the prince. That... Obsession. That hatred... Perhaps, it wasn't that damned sword that drove him past the edge, or the time he spent in the cold Northrend. Maybe all that did was help bring out something that had always laid dormant inside of him... "...Before he went to Northrend."

"Oh, wow! You actually did!? What as he like? What were the demons like? Did you kill one?" Stanley was clearly trying to hide his excitement, but was doing a poor job at keeping his hushed voice low.

"I already told you to be quiet, damn it! No, I... Not exactly. The ones I did fight..." Felrus furrowed his brows as he was reminded of the demonic beasts he had faced during his travels. "I mean... None of those were used against us this time. But... Yeah. I did have to fight some of the demons... But I don't think any of them were exactly of a high... Quality?" He shrugged. "The ones I fought were little more than beasts. They walked on four legs, like hounds... And had large spikes around their body. But the worse thing about them was... They had these tentacles coming from over their shoulders. I saw them pierce a mage with one..." A shiver ran down his spine as the memory assailed him. "Poor man... He was dried up to a husk. Didn't do much against us soldiers, though. I guess that was some sort of... Mage hunter beast. It looked as if it were feeding on magic. And I also remember seeing the other ones... The ones that looked like golems, covered in green fire."

"Oh, I heard of those before!" Stanley said, his eyes gleaming as he tried to keep his mouth from smiling. "Infernals, right? They say those are as large as a house, and they fall from the sky like meteors..."

"Yeah, that's not too far off the mark..." Felrus' eyes half closed as he stared into the shifting waters below. "I only saw one. That's... More than I ever want to see again. One moment, we were defending the point, holding the undead waves back... And then... I heard this really loud noise from above. I look up... And there it was. Falling from the sky, a green, flaming meteor... It hit the watch tower just next to us. Three people died from the impact alone. Then, from that smoking crater, it rose... It had a body made of stone, but was completely covered in that... Horrible green fire. Every step left smoldering marks on the floor. Whenever it swinged at us, more of those flames would fly off... Our defenses simply melted against it. I really thought we would die right then and there..."

Even without looking, Felrus knew Stanley was open-mouthed as he listened to the story. "Bloody hell, mate... And how did you beat that thing? Or did you escape?"

Felrus squeezed his fists lightly. "We... At the last moment... Reinforcements came." The sound of the horn of Lordaeron sounding from the hills next to them was still so loud and clear upon Felrus' ears... He remembered the exact moment he looked up and saw Uther the Lightbringer descend upon the undead horde with a squad of knights, all mounted on horse back and anihilating the undead as they charged straight through their ranks, the infernal following suit soon after. Felrus would never forget the moment he saw the face of the first paladin for the first time. It was like seeing an angel. The man simply... _Radiated_ confidence. Felrus remembered that he had tears on his eyes as he watched the leader of the Silver Hand trottle over the field to meet with Arthas... And then there was that discussion. Felrus hadn't heard exactly what was said, but the prince simply turned and left as Uther looked distraught.

From what he heard from the other soldiers, Uther had been Arthas' mentor as a paladin. It was he who taught the prince how to wield the Light and bring evil to justice. Felrus could only imagine what he had felt when he heard what Arthas had done... And then, to be killed by his own pupil to have the ashes of the king stolen. Arthas had truly fallen... In ways Felrus never even thought possible for a human to. How could one become so wicked? So twisted? So... Sadistic? Especially the crown prince of Lordaeron, one who would never need for anything in his life. He would never understand what could lead a person to that.

"Blimey... Must have been rough. Truth be told... Just seeing the first of those zombies already had me trembling in my boots." Stanley's voice brought him back to reality. "I had never even killed anyone in my life before... Let alone something already dead. At least I had my father, and the whole unit helping and supporting me... But you were all alone, weren't you? How did you manage not to lose it?"

Felrus thought a bit about his answer before replying. "Well... I just kept on thinking about what I had to protect, you know? My country, my city, my family... Especially, my brother, Dalrus." His scar throbbed slightly as he said the name, and that brought a smile to his lips. "His entire life, Dal's been behind the wall... He's never seen the world outside. He was pretty happy there. No worries, no threats... Just... The peaceful life behind those walls. And you know what? That's how everyone should be able to live. Without having to fear some enemy coming over to exterminate them. I kept thinking of those things... I thought that every undead I killed was one less that my family would have to worry about. I couldn't die just yet... Not when I had something so important to protect."

Stanley let out a little chuckle at that. "Well, that's cheesy. But nothing wrong with an answer like that. Me... Guess I'm on the same boat as you, in more ways than one." The two shared a laugh at that. "I got me parents back home... My sister... And a baby brother waiting for me. Gotta make sure that when he can finally walk on his own, he walks into a world without these nasty buggers, eh?"

"That's the spirit!" With a wide grin, Felrus patted his friend on the shoulder. "Nothing is gonna stop us. This time, we bring the fight to them. And we will finally be joining the Alliance! Can you believe that?"

"Oh, yeah! Speaking o' which, you saw them, right? Dwarves, elves, griffons?" Stanley was once again growing too excited to keep his voice low. "What were they like?"

"Ah, yeah... We met a band of friendly dwarves, looking to hunt down a dragon. I even made a friend there!" Felrus looked up to the sky, watching the clouds pass over them. "His name was Dalgund. Pretty skilled engineer, he carried around a hand cannon. Can you imagine that? A cannon small enough to just carry into the battlefield! He said it was actually called a 'mortar'. Dwarves make the most amazing things... Alright, you're not gonna believe this. They had a machine... That allowed them to fly up in the sky!"

"Come on, now you're just pulling my leg." Stanley lifted a brow in doubt. "Demons falling from the sky and small cannons you can carry around I can believe, but flying machines? Quite while you're ahead, mate."

"No, I swear it! And it didn't even use any magic! Dalgund said it was called a 'Gyrocopter'. It had these sticks on top called 'helixes', and they would spin so fast, it would lift up into the air, and it could even carry a person! Well, a dwarf, actually. I don't think they could hold a human. But it also had guns on it, so they could fight enemies from above!"

"What, was it powered by magic or something? Because I've seen the mages make rocks float and stuff." Stanley crossed his arm in disbelief.

Felrus shook his head. "No, no, that' the amazing part! There was no magic at all! It was a mechanical engine! They had electricity stored inside, and that was what made the whole thing work!"

"So... They could fly, and didn't use any magic. That's a tall story." Stanley shook his head. "Enough about dwarves and their inventions... What about the elves? Surely you saw some! I hear the ladies are very... Ellegant."

"Ah... Yes. A small group of them joined us, yes..." Felrus hesitated. He didn't exactly have fond memories of his interactions with the elves. "They are a... Mysterious people. I don't know, I just... It sort of feels like, when an elf is talking to you, they are talking down, you know? Like they think they are better than you."

"Aye, I heard that too. Most elves are pretty snobby." Stanley snorted. "But that's not what I'm asking. Elves live thousands of years, but they never age! So... Did you meet one? What do they call... A cougar?" A malicious grin was spreading over his face now. "Don't try to lie to me on that one, I won't believe none of those immortal ladies wasn't interested in fresh meat!"

"Get your mind out of the bloody gutter, will you?" Felrus said as he felt a blush form over his nose and cheeks. Truth be told... There was a certain enchantress there who, at an occasion, shot him a very unnerving smile... He shook his head to rid himself of the memory. "Besides, they aren't human. Not like something even could happen between us. We are pretty much bugs to the elves."

"Don't spoil my fantasies, mate! At least give me something about them!" Stanley patted Felrus on the back, that malicious grin still plastered over his thin face. "Is it true their faces are spotless? Their eyes glowing green? That they are all lean, full of... Curves?"

"Yeah, Fel, don't keep the beams to yourself! Is it true that their eyebrows are as large as their ears?" Dalrus said, bringing an apple up to his mouth and taking a huge bite of it soon after.

"Actually, yes, that was sort of-" Felrus blinked. Then both him and Stanley turned around to look at the young rogue who was squatting over a closed barrel against the wall just next to them, the bitten apple on his hand as he chewed and looked at them. "What?" He said.

Felrus blinked in absolute astonishment. "Dalrus!? What the... Where... How...?" Looking back over his shoulder in desperation, Felrus reached out with his hands and pulled Dalrus down from his spot. They youth let out a loud protest, but did not fight back as he was dragged under the stairs leading to the upper deck. "What are you doing here!?" Felrus hissed, Stanley leaning against the stairs next to them and trying to hide them from view.

"Jeez, nice to see you too, bro." Dalrus replied, dusting his black tunic off and taking another bite of his apple. "What do you think I'm doing here? I came to help you!"

"Dalrus, this isn't a game!" Felrus run his hand over his eyes and sighed. "I am going to war, Dalrus. We are going to fight the demons and the undead in their own territory. This is nothing like Gilneas! This time, we won't just be defending behind the safety of a giant wall!"

"Whaaaaaat? You mean other kingdoms don't built giant walls around their boarders?" His brother replied, one hand placed on his cheek as he made an exagerated expression of fake surprise. "Jeez willickers Fel, and here I thought we would be sitting on those flying machines of yours and bombarding them all from above!"

Felrus had to close his eyes and take in a deep breath to calm down. Had his brother always been this infuriating? "Dal, I am telling you right now, we are going to a very dangerous place. You're going to get yourself killed. Do you understand!? You could die out there! What will mother and father think without you? What will our uncle?"

"I don't know, Fel. I guess the same they would if something happened to you?" The boy shrugged, then swallowed and took one more bite from his apple. "What are you so mad about? I can look after myself. It's you and your muscle head that I'm worried about. I'm here to make sure you don't get yourself killed."

Felrus opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He closed his eyes once again, and had to take another deep breath before adressing his younger brother. "Dalrus. I am your older brother. You listen to me. I can take care of myself just fine. This time, I will be fighting alongside the entire Alliance against these monsters. And this time, there won't be a surprise worgen attack in the middle of the fight."

"Yeah, says you." Taking one last bite, Dalrus flicked the core of his apple over his shoulder without even looking. It made a perfect arc through the stair steps above them, bounced off the railing and fell fell onto the water below. "Don't know if you paid attention to father, but apparently, keeping you alive is my job. It's kind of why I even bothered learning how to wield these since I was four." With a flick of his wrist, suddenly Dalrus was holding a long, curved dagger with fanged patterns along it's blade on his left hand. Felrus lifted his brows at that, as he had no idea where that weapon had come from. "This is going to be the biggest, deadliest fight of your life. And I already saved you once before. You really think you're not gonna be needing me now?"

Felrus had to lower his eyes as the scar on his face throbbed once more. His hand unconsciously lifted up to pat it, and he was forced to say: "No... But... Dal... You're not ready for this. It's too soon. Maybe after a couple more years with uncle Silvius..."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what you would love to say to me two years from now." Dalrus cut him off. "And again two years later. Fel, I get that you want to protect me. But aren't we switching roles here? You're the Fang, I'm the Plague. Your blade in the dark, remember? Come on, bro. Together, we can do anything! Even take down a horde of demons!" Dalrus was shooting him a cocky grin now. "I mean, come on, how much worse than the worgen could they be? And I already managed to kill one of those! Also, how's the shoulder?"

Felrus winced at that, and his hand suddenly went to the spot where the worgen had bit him. "It's... Fine. I'll be fine." He said, looking away from Dalrus.

Felrus heard him sigh. "Yeah, I thought so. We don't know what kinds of effects those things have on humans yet. The priest made that medicine for you, right? Something about infusing it with power of the Light to counter the foreign energies of the worgen? Bet you didn't even bring some of it along, did you?"

"Dalrus, I told you, I am fi-" He began to say, then suddenly there was a bright flask shaking in front of his face, held firmly between Dalrus' fingers. "That's what I thought. Good thing I had the intelligence to bring some along. I knew you'd be stubborn enough to try and fight wounded."

Felrus hesitated, then, finally, he threw his arms in the air, his father's words echoing in his mind. ' _Those who are free to come and go as they please, those who aren't... And those who are capable of coming and going as they please, regardless of allowings.'_ Seemed as if his little brother fit quite easily into the third cathegory. "Blast it, Dalrus... I guess I couldn't keep you away even if I wanted to, eh?" Finally, Felrus broke into a smile, then he surged forward and wrapped his arms around his younger brother's waist. "I'm so happy to see you, brother... You're right. Together, there's nothing we can't do."

Dalrus, taken by surprised by that gesture, chuckled a bit, one hand patting his brother on the back as the other continued to hold his medicine up in the air. "About time you realized. OK, now tell me the truth. Do elves really have eyebrows so huge they stick out of their faces, or was Silvius just pulling my leg on that one?"


	15. Chapter 15 - Arriving on Kalimdor

_**Chapter 15 - Arriving on Kalimdor**_

The voyage did not take them very long. Only a few days at sea with mostly smooth sailing, made all the easier thanks to the navigating charts that Lady Jaina had provided them with. Apparently, she was the daughter of a big time seaman from the Alliance, thought Dalrus couldn't really recall his name. By their third day, Dalrus was lazily hanging over the railing, tossing his dagger up and down as his brother was puking over the edge right next to him. "That's it, bro. Better out than in." He said, sighing loudly from boredom and pocketing his dagger. "But you'd think after putting up with the stench of the undead would make you immune to any sort of nausea."

"This... Is... Different..." Felrus managed to blurt out, his arms gripping at the railings as his legs threatened to give out under him. "All this... Rocking... Back and forth... The ground keeps... Moving... Under my... F... Feet... URRRP!" Once more that belching noise, and Dalrus heard a fresh load pour down at the sea below them. "Don't worry, Fel. We'll be getting there real soon. I think. I hope. Maybe?"

Felrus was just about to smack his brother across his smug little face when suddenly that divine scream came from above: "LAND HO!"

The two brothers stood up and sccanned the horizon. And surely enough... There it was. The new continent to the far west. Kalimdor.

Felrus' first thoughts as he peered at the sandy shores, then towards the vast wastelands that covered the southern regions were: _'So this is it... This is where we will fight... For our destiny. Against the Burning Legion.'_ Dalrus' first impression of the place was: _'Bloody hell, why is everything so orange?'_

"Furl sails! Man the oars! We make for the coast!" The captain was screaming. On their first day on board, all on board had been debriefed about their travelling route. They were to land on the shores to the south, then move towards a garrison stationed at a place called the 'Stonetalon Mountains.' They were to report to a commander there awaiting for them and await further instructions. As they came closer to the shore, they could see there was already an Alliance encampent there. A tall keep stood watch over the sea and the desolate land behind it, with several watch towers along the coast. Barracks could also be seen, with armored soldiers marching back and forth. But that wasn't all. People... Commonfolk were also there. They had built houses, began plantations, and went on about their daily lives. Dalrus assumed those were refugees from Lordaeron.

"Poor people... They lost their homes, and had to start a new life in this strange land." Felrus said, also looking at them with a sad expression. Or maybe that was just the nausea.

"Jeez, who would want to live here? It's all so... Dusty. You can grow on fields like these?" Dalrus shook his head. "We saw woods to the north, didn't we? Plenty of green up there. Why not move to a more hospitable spot?"

"Good question... Let's be sure to ask once we- BLAAAARGH!" Dalrus rolled his eyes as Felrus bent over the rail once more. "Alright, I gotcha. Now try and hold some of your lunch in, we are almost there."

The sun was starting to set by the time they finally arrived on the shore. There was a regimen awaiting for them there. Several footmen, all clad in full plate armor and shields bearing the symbol of Lordaeron... And behind those, Dalrus assumed, had to be dwarves. The little guys were wearing long blue cloaks and were armed with rifles. And they all had long, stylish beards that covered their entire faces from the nose down, and most went as low as their waists. And standing right in front of them was who Dalrus assumed could be none other than Lady Jaina Proudmoore herself. They weighed anchors about a kilometer off the shore and began to load the rowboats to approach the land. Felrus did not speak the whole time, apparently too focused in keeping his guts from spilling. And finally, they were there. Dalrus hopped off his boat, his supply sack thrown over his back. His boots sank into the soft sand, and he looked around, watching as the rest of the Gilneas Brigade left their boats as well and began to gather along the shoreline. Now that they were much closer, Dalrus realized that the mage who was responsible for that entire effort was actually a dashing, young woman. She couldn't even be on her thirties yet. Jaina Proudmoore sport a long, silken blonde hair that was mostly hidden under a long blue cloak. She was holding a staff with what appeared to be an ice crystal at the tip. She wore a small, tight white shirt that left her midriff exposed, and matching pants from the waist down. Dalrus watched as shee took in a deep breath and stepped forward, approaching the noble lord responsible for their regimen. "Lady Jaina!" The man said. "I am Lord Victor Bellsford. I come to you as the representative of our unit... The Gilneas Brigade!"

The young mage was clearly surprised by that. She took a moment to recompose herself before offering a polite smile and approaching the group. "Ah... So Gilneas answers our plead after all! It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord. I am Jaina Proudmoore... And I speak for the Human Expedition forces stationed here in Kalimdor. It brings me joy to know that Genn Greymane has finally decided to help us in this war."

Dalrus could almost imagine the commander looking to the side nervously as he said: "Ah... Yes. Of course. We could stand idle no longer. We are ready, and eager to do our part in this battle. We pledge our loyalty to you." As he said that, the man took a respectful bow, and, following suit, all the other soldiers took a knee as well. Dalrus would have probably remained there standing like an idiot if his brother hadn't grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt and tugged him down along with him.

Once again, the beautiful young mage was at a loss for words. "Oh! I, ah..." She cleared her throat, then stood up straight, trying to look more imposing. "Thank you, Lord Bellsford. Every single person who joins us is a welcome help. Your troops may rest in this small town while we discuss where to proceed from here. Please, come with me."

As their commander left with Jaina to join the other generals and captains within the keep, Dalrus, Felrus and the rest of the soldiers began to gather their belongings and march towards the barracks and inns to have some well-earned rest after their boat trip. "So... This is Kalimdor." Dalrus said after a while as they crossed the large stone gates. That was some quick and efficient engineering right there, as there was no way they could have been stationed there for more than a few months at best. "Don't look too different from the Eastern Kingdoms, eh? You know, aside from all the dust."

Felrus lifted a brow at him. "Are you crazy? Look at all this! I had never seen a beach like this before... All I ever knew were the shores surrounding Gilneas." Felrus looked over his shoulder towards the setting sun on the horizon, and smiled. "And no giant wall anywhere."

That, Dalrus had to admit, was true. Never in his life had he been in a city that wasn't surrounded by sheer, steep cliffs or a gigantic stone wall. Nor had he ever been to such a... Raunchy place, either. He could see plenty of people going back and forth, mostly peasants, but a few soldiers as well. But that wasn't the richest part of it... It was the presence of dwarves, elves, griffons, machines, and he could have sworn he saw something that vaguely looked like a person made of water with deep blue eyes and golden bracers around it's wrists following a woman around. Another fun aspect was how different their speech was from what Dalrus was used to. The dwarves especially had a strong accent and loud, raspy voices. The elves sounded a lot more... Melodical, as if they were reciting a poem rather than engaging in idle chatter. And Dalrus' suspicions were soon confirmed; elves really did have eyebrows so long they were jutting out the sides of their faces and falling down around their heads. _'Bloody hell, why don't they shave that? Do they think it's pretty?'_ He pondered as he lifted both his brows at them. His thoughts were interrupted when they arrived at their barracks. After the entrance, there were two main halls. One lead to where the meals were prepared and served, the other led to the sleeping quarters. Several bunk beds were arranged one next to the other, and the soldiers were already throwing their belongings over them and making themselves comfortable. Dalrus and his brother found two that were unnocupied, with Dalrus taking the top one as his brother laid down on the lower one and let out a long sigh of relief. "So... We are finally here." He said, crossing his arms under his head and closing his eyes.

Dalrus simply stared at him from above. "You know... This was already bothering me when we were on the ship, but... Aren't you gonna take that thing off?" He pointed at Felrus' chest plate. "Seriously, just looking at it is making me sweat. How can you stand never taking it off this whole bloody time?"

His brother shrugged. "Eh, got used to it by now. When I was going around Lordaeron, we suffered a lot of surprised attacks. Better to be safe than sorry." Dalrus simply shook his head at that. He then hopped down to the floor and stretched his back. "Welp. I'm sure you need your rest, bro. So why don't you take a nap while I go take a look around the place?" As Dalrus made his way outside, he could hear his brother yelling: "Don't cause any trouble!"

Night was already settled on the encampment. Torches were lit all over the place, and it seemed as if the night life was just as busy as the day one... Especially around the inn. Music was coming out of the place, and Dalrus could see a trio of soldiers outside, their helmets tucked under their arms as they drank and laughed. Curious, the young rogue made his way inside, and almost took a step back as the loud music and stench of beer assaulted him like a physical blow. "Bloody hell." He said out loud, watching the chaos before him.

The loudest ones were the dwarves. They shook their ale mugs and laughed as they slapped their tables, sharing stories and making silly jokes. There were a couple of female elves by the counter, who, despite being more reserved, also seemed to be having a good time as they chatted with a human soldier. An elven bard by the edge of the inn was playing an instrument Dalrus didn't quite recognize. It looked like a guitar, but had a more... Oval shape, and less strings. His fingers deftly moved back and forth over them, producing a serene melody to match the drunken dwarves' singing. A single waitress was dashing back and forth, trying to take everyone's orders with a smile.

The whole place was absolutely nothing like Gilneas. Sure, they had their bars and drunkards as well, but nothing was as raudy as what Dalrus was bearing witness to. He made his way towards the counter, where a fat, bearded old man was busy filling mugs with ale from huge barrels stacked up behind him and laying them on the edge of the counter for the waitress to pick up. Finally, the man took notice of the youth tapping his fingers as he looked around curious. "Oy, this ain't place for children. Get going, will ya?" He said, making rude sweeping gestures towards Dalrus.

Dalrus frowned back at the man. Did he look that young? He was already starting to grow a beard, too. The past couple of weeks, that shade of hair had already began to show over his nose and around his jawline. "Do I look like a bloody kid to you, old man? I'll have you know, I'm with the Gilneas Brigade." Don't suppose you have some wine back there, or is beer all you got?"

To Dalrus' surprise, this made some people launch him curious looks, especially the humans. The barman huffed, then slowly he placed his hands on the counter and leaned down to look at Dalrus in the eye. "That so? Well, mighty nice of you to finally show your royal arse around here. I'll go and fetch your drink right away. It might take a couple years to get here, though... But that's not something you're a stranger to, ain't that right?" Some of the people around him laughed, and the barman, with a cocky little smirk, stood up and turned his back on the very confused rogue.

"Bloody hell..." Dalrus muttered, turning his back to the counter and leaning against it. Some people were still watching him, and he could swear a couple were outright _glaring._ _'Blimey... Guess we aren't too popular around these folks.'_ He thought, his brows furrowing a bit. _'Guess old man Greymane made some pretty unpopular decisions. Can't say I blame these folks for resenting us.'_ Letting out a sigh, Dalrus stood up straight and looked back at the barman who had made absolutely no effort to go fetch him anything. Shaking his head, Dalrus began to make his way out of the inn.

"Oy, what's the matter, Gilnean?" Dalrus heard someone scream behind him. "Ye goin' back ta that wall o' yers?" Looking back, Dalrus saw one of the dwarves shaking his beer mug at him, causing some of it's contents to spill over the edge and soak the table he was sitting on. His nose was huge, round and already red as a beet. His long brown beard sported braids along the sides, and he was wearing some light chainmail under his beer-stained tabbard. "Barely got here and yer' already abandonin' the Alliance again, aren't ye?"

Dalrus stopped, then slowly turned around to face the drunkard. "Beg your pardon?" He said in a very polite tone as he lifted a brow inquisitively towards the dward.

"Aye, ya heard me loud and clear, brat! Don't pretend ye didn't!" The dwarf brought the mug to his lips and took a huge swig, leaving his mustache white after he slammed it onto the table. "Comin' here after all that's happened! Abandonin' us durin' the second war! And now that blasted king o' yers sends a handful of soldiers with his best wishes!? Bah!" The dwarf spat onto the floor before him. The entire tavern had gone silent now, all eyes on him. "Tis' insulting, that's wot it is! I'll be damned if I'll be fighting alongside cowards and yellow bellies against demons and the undead! Go back to that bloody wall o' yers while the real soldiers fight the war!"

Dalrus could tell people were starting to gather outside of the inn now. The dwarf was speaking quite loudly, after all. He could see the guards outside peering in through the windows. Didn't look like they would be doing much to enforce law and order right that moment. Dalrus sighed, then looked down at his gloved hands with disinterest, checking it for dirt. "That all you had to say, big guy? I got stuff to do." And with that, he turned his back once more and headed towards the door.

"The hell ye' just said ta' me, ye' sniveling brat!?" Came the scream from behind. Dalrus had to admit that, for someone so clearly drunk, the dwarf was still quite the shot. He had to lean his head to the side to dodge the incoming empty beer mug that was hurled at him. "Ye think yer' so high n' mighty! Can't wait ta watch yer' people turn yellow and run the first moment ye lay eyes on the enemies out there! Cowards like ye can never be trusted, especially that lying, two-faced backstabbing king o' yers!"

Dalrus' eye twitched. He took in a deep breath, then turned around. The following second, the dwarf was laying over the table, Dalrus' foot firmly planted against the back of his head and the other giving him some leverage on the floor below as he pressed the jagged edge of his dagger against the bulky little man's neck. "I'm sorry, what was that? Care to repeat what you just said about my king to my face, mate?" Dalrus said with all the calm in the world.

Everyone in the inn gasped, most of them standing up. The dwarves on the table next to them all suddenly got up, most of them reaching for their weapons. "Get your hands offa me, brat! I'll twist yer little neck, I will!" The drunken dwarf screamed as he slammed on the table, but suddenly went still as Dalrus pressed his dagger harder against that thick, muscular neck. "No, I don't think that's what you said earlier. Something about my king? Mind saying that to my face rather than my back this time, mate?" Dalrus grunted, grinding his boot against the dwarf's skull.

"THAT'S ENOUGH, THE TWO OF YOU!" Suddenly came a shout from the doorway. Dalrus looked up, and saw what could only be a paladin standing by the inn's entrance. The man's armor was made of heavy golden plates with a blue tabbard showing the symbol of a golden lion on the front. He was wearing a horned helmet that covered most of his face, with two little dark holes showing his eyes by the front. "You, Gilnean. Get off from the dwarf and sheathe your weapon before I have you neutralized. Now." He said, glaring at Dalrus. He could tell the man was clearly a figure of authority by the way he spoke, as well as how people seemed to actually pay attention to him. "Alright, you're the boss." Dalrus said, pulling his foot away from the dwarf's head and hanging his dagger by his belt, then lifting his hands to show he no longer was holding anything.

"Now ye done it, ye cowardly, stinky little-" The dwarf began to say when the paladin shouted: "GAELYN! I TOLD YOU WHAT WOULD HAPPEN THE NEXT TIME YOU STIRRED UP TROUBLE BY THE INN!" This made the dwarf - whose name Dalrus supposed was Gaelyn - and slowly turn to face the paladin. "Ah... Lord Wyrmbane, ya see, this boy here, he-"

"I heard you loud and clear from the outside, Gaelyn, as I'm sure half the entire encampment did. I know how you provoked him. And I warned you what I would do next time your druken words started another fight here. Take him away." The man known as 'Wyrmbane' waved over his shoulder, and inside the inn came three soldiers who took the dwarf Gaelyn by his arms and dragged him off as the kicked and squirmed in a drunken rage. The paladin then turned to face Dalrus, who stood there with his hands on his pockets and a neutral expression. "As for you, Gilnean... How old are you?"

"I'm seventeen." He replied, lifting a brow up at the armored man. "So, yes, I'm already at age to go to war, and drink."

"So you say. But this is not the place for children who fight back at the slightest provocation. If you think we will let you wander around doing whetever you want, you're very mistaken." The paladin walked towards Dalrus, who, without flinching, stood his ground and continued to look deeply into those dark holes on Wyrmbane's helmet. "My name is Halford Wyrmbane. I am the High Commander of the human expedition under Lady Jaina's leadership. Understand this, boy. This war that you are just arriving at, we have been fighting for well over a year. Many people here lost their homes while Gilneas closed it's gates and comfortably sat behind it's walls all this time. I personally say that it is better late than ever, but Gaelyn is not the only person here who resents your people for taking so long to take action. This time, I will let things slide... But if I hear you or anyone else from your kingdom got into another fight, I'll see to it you pay the toll. What we need now is unity, not pointless bickering and bar fights. AND THIS!" Now the paladin was looking back at the rest of the people inside the inn, as well as the crowd outside watching them. "GOES FOR ALL OF YOU! I WILL NOT PERMIT ANY MORE STRUGGLES AMONGST OURSELVES! REGARDLESS OF RACE OR NATIONALITY, WE CAME HERE TO STAND TOGETHER AGAINST THE SCOURGE! NOW GET BACK TO YOUR POSTS!" And with that, the paladin left, and soon the crowd began to scatter. Dalrus let out a long, tired sigh and rubbed his eyes. He then felt a tap on his shoulder. Warily, he turned around to see yet another dwarf. This one looked much older than the one who Dalrus was just fighting with. His beard was almost completely white, with deep wrinkles around his face. His nose was long and slightly curvy like a bird's beak. His mustache was so thick, Dalrus couldn't even see his mouth. "Oy, lad. I want ta' apologize on behalf of Gaelyn. He's a mean drunk. Ye wanted some wine, right? Why don't ye let me treat ye? Name's Baelyn. That thick-skulled moron that just got dragged off is me brother."

Dalrus looked the short, hairy man up and down for a moment. Much like all dwarves, he was about a two thirds of his height, though Dalrus had no doubt one day he'd be about twice taller. His head sported a few stray locks of white hair pulled back in a single long braid down his back. He wore a chain mail over his chest, and his strong, muscular warms were bare. He also wore strangely thick leather pants with metallic boots. His eyes were a deep brown, and didn't look very harsh as they peered at Dalrus. "Well, you're already nicer than he was. Sure, I'll take you up on that." He finally said, offering the dwarf a smile, along with his outstretched hand. "Dalrus. Dalrus Plaguefang. Nice to meet you, Baelyn. And sorry I roughed your brother up like that. I wasn't actually gonna stab him or anything. Just trying to give him a scare."

Baelyn let out a hard chuckle that Dalrus recognized came from a heavy smoker. "Aye, I could tell, and I bet so did the commander." He said, taking Dalrus' hand with a grip that almost made the boy wince. "No real killing intent, lad. But that was quite the trick ta' pull. All me years, the only people I've seen pop from one place ta' the other in an instant were mages. But I never met one that could handle a knife as well as ye." He waved towards his table, which was now currently empty. Dalrus lifted Gaelyn's fallen chair and sat down on it, Baelyn taking the one opposite to him. The dwarf them waved the waitress closer, a cheery girl with a short white dress under a dark leather bustier. Her hair was short and red, and she sported several wrinkles on her round face. "Good evenin', lass. I'll be having a refill on me mug, and the lad here said he was in the mood for some wine, eh?"

"Oh, sure thing! I don't think Gaunt will mind if I bring it for you!" The girl said, shooting them both a smile. She then turned to face Dalrus. "And thank you for dealing with that drunk loudmouth. He was really starting to get annoying! No offence, Baelyn."

"None taken, lass. I was about ta smack him across his fat head meself." The dwarf let out another rough, ragged chuckle that made Dalrus absolutely certain he was a smoker.

"But that was such a cool trick! Teleporting like that! Are you a wizard? Can you do more magic?" She was smiling widely at Dalrus, showing that her teeth were a little jagged and uneven. "Oh, I'm Trisha by the way! Gaunt is my dad. We run this inn together. My mom cooks in the back. I had never seen a Gilnean before. Is that just something you all do?"

"Woah, easy, love. One question at a time!" Dalrus said, raising his hands as he shot her a gallant grin. "Nah, not everyone can pull off this trick. Only rogues as skilled as me. Maybe I could show you sometime?"

Trisha giggled. "Oh, I'd love that! But I'm so busy here during the night. Maybe some other time?"

Dalrus winked. "For sure, beautiful. I'll look out for you during your free time."

The girl had to turn around and cover her mouth as she had a strong giggling fit. Trying to hold back, she said "Excuse me!" And hurried off twards the kitchen as Dalrus watched with a raised brow and an amused smile on his face. "Quite the lady killer, aren't ye lad?" Baelyn said, and Dalrus could tell the dwarf was also smiling under his beard. "Ah, well..." He replied. "My entire life I've only been living in that city. Not that the girls there aren't interesting... But meeting someone new like this... It's the kind of thing that really stirs my interest, you know?" He leaned back on his seat and placed his hands over the table. "To be honest, this is my first time to ever leave Gilneas. I had never seen anything that I saw today. This new continent... Elves, dwarves, people from other nations... It's all pretty amazing to me."

"Ye don't say? Takes a lot of courage to venture out in the world like this. Me, I've been in this bloody business for well over a century now." Baelyn sighed, his fingers curling around the handles of his empty ale mug as he peered down into it's empty insides. "I've had me fair share of explorin', lad. And let me tell ye. The world is a larger place than ye can imagine."

Dalrus lifted both his brows at that. "A century? Huh... Kudos to you, mate. If a human that old tried to go to war, the weight of the equipment alone would kill him before the enemies."

Baelyn threw back his head and let out a loud, hearty laugh at that. "HAR! Dwarves age differently than humans, lad. Most of our people make it well over the two hundred years. Me, I'm barely a hundred and seventy. I'm not exactly young and sprightly anymore, but still got plenty of fight in me!" That moment, Trish came back with their drinks. Dalrus shot her another wink as she handed him a wine bottle along with a wooden mug, and the girl shied away from him as she giggled once again. She then gave them a curt bow and left to serve other tables. "Ye know, thats' something I can respect about ye humans'. Ye only have half the time we do, and don't get me started on the elves... Those get to live forever as far as I know. But you people, despite all that little time, get so much done... All this, all that's going on right now, it's all thanks to that human lass, that Lady Jaina. Poor girl, she has so much on her shoulders... And I can tell she's young, even by your standards."

"Yeah, speaking of which, how does a bird like that end up commandeering the entire Human Expedition? Was her father someone famous, or something?" The boy casually said as he brought the drink up to his lips. He wrinkled his face once he got a taste. It was absolutely nothing like Gilnean wine. This one tasted... Cheap. Somewhat sour.

Baelyn chuckled as he saw Dalrus' expression. "Aye, not the best stuff, but it gets our bellies full. Not like we can afford to carry around anything too fancy to war, eh?" The dwarf took another swig of his ale and sighed, causing his alcoholic breath to wash over Dalrus' face. "But, ta answer yer question... Lady Jaina is the apprentice or Archmage Antonidas. He was one of the greatest mages ta ever live. After that bloody prince went and killed everyone in Dalaran, he began to march all over the kingdom, destroying everything in his path. It was Lady Jaina who rounded up the survivors and lead them here to this place. She's our savior in this dark hour. Even you answered her call, didn't ye?"

Dalrus tapped his chin in deep thought. "I suppose. She's just not quite who I expected would be leading us in the final battle agains the demons and the undead." He took another sip of his glass, and tried not to twist his face too much this time. "So... I guess Gilneas isn't too popular around here, eh?"

He saw Baelyn lower his gaze towards the wooden table, then rest his elbow against the edge as he rolled the beer inside his mug. "Aye, lad... Not gonna lie ta' ye. There's plenty resentment against yer people. Ye need ta understand... Gilneas pretty much abandoned us during the second war. And we haven't heard a thing from them since this one began. The borders were closed, and no one was allowed inside. I understand yer king was just looking out fer his people, trying to keep them safe from this manace... But not everyone sees it this way. And we were hoping that he'd send the entire army ta help... Not four ships with a few soldiers inside. And Greymane isn't even here himself. Some people see this is just a token effort... Like he did back during the second war."

With a heavy sigh, Dalrus also placed his elbow upon the table and rested his chin on top of his hand. "Yeah, I can see how that would be frustrating. Thing is, we kind of got our own issues back home... And we really couldn't afford to send that many people over." Dalrus wondered what they would think of Greymane when they heard it hadn't even been him who sent the Gilneas Brigade to Kalimdor. "We got sieged by the undead for a few days. We barely managed to push them back, but then another more... Hairy issue showed up. So, you know. Gotta make sure we have a home to come back to after we are done here."

Another chuckle came from under Baelyn's beard. "Quite the optimist, aren't ye, lad? Aye... Must be nice to know ye still have something waiting for ye. Me and me brother... Our home was overtaken by those monsters. This expedition is all we have ta fight for now. So he's quite bitter towards anyone who hasn't lost everything to those blasted undead." Baelyn sighed in exasperation and poured some more of his beer down his gullet. Wiping his beard with the back of his arm afterwards, he looked out through the inn's window. "I've seen me fair share of war and conflict, but never anything this big. And just as the orcs left from our land, we have the blasted luck of running into them again here!"

"Come again?" Dalrus blinked. "Orcs? Here?"

"Aye. We did find it strange when suddenly the entire horde up and vanished from our lands. Apparently, they had stolen some ships and sailed off who knows where!" Baelyn took one more angry sip from his mug and burped loudly. "So imagine our surprise when we see them setting up bases here! Worst of all is that bloody musclehead Grommash, leader of those Warsong orcs. He's more beast than orc, I tell yeh. Waving around that wicked axe and screaming like hell itself. I can see where he got the name from."

Dalrus' mouth was hanging slightly open as he tried to absorb the dwarf's words. "So... You're telling me... The orcs are here? We are fighting them? On top of everything else?"

Nodding, Baelyn chugged down the rest of his ale and slammed the empty mug against the table. "Damn right! Blast those filthy greenskins... Just when we thought we were finally rid of their whole lot! Turns out the sneaky little basterds somehow got a warning ahead of us! They just up and fled this way before this whole mess even started. No wonder ye don't see any orc zombies rushing down at ye. Not that I'm complaining about that, mind ye." The dwarf sighed and run his hand up along his semi-bald scalp. "Tensions are high and growing, lad. Everyone's at their limits, but we gotta push on. This war ain't gonna win itself. We will do whatever we need ta' survive and go back to our lives. No matter the cost."

Dalrus went silent. He had heard plenty about the orcs before, but he never even imagined he would be running into them here of all places. It was bad enough that they needed to deal with the Scourge and the Burning Legion, but now the Orcish Horde as well? What was next, the return of the trolls? "What a bloody mess." He finally said, drinking some more of his awful, cheap wine. "Aye, what a bloody mess indeed." Baelyn agreed with a nod.

The two sat there in silence for a few moments, Dalrus rolling his drink around in his mug as Baelyn ordered a new one from Trish. The two then engaged into a bit more of idle chatter about less serious matters - such as why Baelyn thought the elves allowed their eybrows to be so bloody long. The two shared a few stories and some good laughs. Dalrus was especially interested in hearing about the dwarven kingdom.

"Ah, ye should see fer yerself one day, lad." Baelyn said. "Khaz Modan is like a gem sculpted right off the ground. Mountains as far as the eye can see, clear white snow on top of them. Nothing compares to the feeling of looking everything from atop a griffon."

"Wait, what? You're a griffon rider?" Dalrus asked in disbelief.

"Course I'm a rider! Can't ye tell by the getup?" Baelyn slapped his thigh, and Dalrus once again took notice of those thick pants he wore. "Ye need strong lower protection to keep ye in the saddle, but can't be wearing anything too heavy. Just some light chain armor and the good ol' trusty stormhammer. Aye, nothing compares to the sensation, lad. The wind rushing over yer body as ye spin the hammer over yer head, taking that long, careful aim at yer target..."

For a good hour, Baelyn was happy to answer all Dalrus' question about being a griffon rider. How high had he flown, how fast had he dived, what sort of battles had he faced... It really helped the boy realized how much existed in the world. Before long, the inn was absolutely full of people, and the two had to shout to be heard over the dozens of people laughing, singing, chatting and insulting one another. Finally, Dalrus shaked Baelyn's hand and said: "Well mate, this has been quite a wonderful chinwag, but I reckon I should be going back now. Great meeting ya, Baelyn. You keep your chin up, eh?" The dwarf let out another one of his ragged, heavy-smoker laughs and slapped Dalrus so hard on the back he almost fell down. "Ye too, lad. Thanks for keepin' me entertained tonight. And sorry again about me brother. Don't take none of that personally. Great to meet ya, and keep yer feet on the ground! Ye need anythin', don't be afraid ta ask!" And with that cheery farewell, Dalrus left the inn, his ears ringing from all the noise and a sour taste in his mouth from the awful wine he ingested.

Looking around, the only people occupying the streets of the garrison at that time were sentries stationed along the watch towers and walls. Things were peaceful for the moment. _'If only things could just stay this way...'_ He thought as he looked up at the cloudless night sky. The moon was a quarter full that night, shining down on them with a gorgeous radiance. The other moon was slightly to it's left, looking small and pretty as always. He couldn't help but think that somehow those moond looking over Kalimdor looked even more beautiful than they did whenever Dalrus looked at them back home in Gilneas.


	16. Chapter 16 - The Human Expedition

_**Chapter 16 - The Human Alliance**_

Dalrus stared down at his food plate, which consisted of a bowl full of stew and a glass of water. "You're kidding, right?" He said as he looked up to his brother, who chomped his meal down like a hungry wolf with a spoon. With his mouth still full, Felrus looked back at his brother inquisitively, then he swallowed down and asked: "What do you mean?"

Dalrus shook his head. "Don't they have... You know. Real food? Food you're supposed to eat, rather than drink?" He lifted a spoonfull of the stew and watched as the thick broth clung on to his wooden spoon like glue with a wrinkled up face. To his annoyance, Felrus actually let out a joyful laugh at that. "Ah, right..." He said, patting Dalrus on the back. "You actually never ate anything other than Gilnean cooking, did you? Or anything outside our house, for that matter!"

"Yeah, look, I get that we can't hope for much commodity on a ship at sea... But come on, how do they expect the soldiers to be at their one hundred percent if they can't give us real food?" Dalrus sniffed the stew on his spoon, and wrinkled his face even further. "Crikey. I'd expect the orcs to be eating this kind of stuff, not us."

"Oy, don't be picky, Dal. We are at war, remember?" Felrus brought another spoonful of the stew to his mouth and chewed it down slowly before swallowing once more. "Provisions are not abundant, and we got dozens, hundreds of people to feed. Stews, broths and soups are the easiest and the most efficient dishes to prepare for large ammounts of people. They keep you well nutritioned, they are quick and easy to prepare, and they use few ingredients. So if I were you, I'd get used to having this often. And besides..." A malicious grin crept up along Felrus' face. "I'm sure that after a full day performing your duties as a soldier, you'll see something like this as a gift from the gods."

"Lovely." Holding his breath, Dalrus shoved the spoon inside his mouth and almot chocked on the strong taste. "Bloody hell, there's more fat in this than in our soap bars!"

The two brothers were just another pair of heads among the dozens of people filling the cantina halls within the barracks. All around them were many more people, ranging from young to old, humans, dwarves and elves, and Dalrus could have sworn he caught glimpses of people so minuscle they barely got past up his kneecaps. He assumed those were probably dwarven children... Though he could have also sworn those 'kids' had only four fingers in their hands. There was a deafening cacaphonia of chatter all around them, and Dalrus would wince quite often from the noise spikes that would occur every now and then. They were to gather within the center of the keep later in order to receive their instructions about where they would be assigned to.

Having finished his meal, Felrus let out a long sigh of satisfaction and leaned back on his seat. "Haaah... Always good to enjoy a nice, warm meal." The warrior said, patting his belly. As usual, he was still wearing his full armor set. Dalrus had discovered that was quite the common practice amongst the soldiers. "Eh... I think I'll go get something at the inn. At least they have fruit there." The rogue commented, dropping his spoon onto the bowl and pushing it away. Felrus glanced his way. "You sure that's a good idea after all that noise yesterday? What if someone gives you trouble again?" Dalrus, however, was already getting up from his seat. "Don't worry, brother. I am quite the diplomat!" He declares, offering his brother a charming smile with a cocked up brow that made Felrus scoff. "Fine, but try and keep it cool this time, alright? We don't need any more hassles than we already have." But Dalrus was already giving him a 'Yeah, yeah' as he made his way out and through the barracks' entrance.

The garrison was a beehive of activity during that time of the day. Now that there was more sunlight, Dalrus could see there were, indeed, some people who were, in fact, _smaller_ than the dwarves... And they were most definitely not children, if the beards and mustaches on some of them were any indication. Those minuscle people had disproportionally large heads and hands, and bodies so tiny and petite, Dalrus imagine he could lift one like a ragdoll. They sported only four fingers on each of their hands, and the vast majority were occupied with some kind of machinery; rifles and portable cannons Dalrus could wrap his mind around, but he actually stopped dumbfounded when he saw what could only be described as a robotic chicken carrying one of the tiny people on it's back. Amazed, he followed the mounted person towards the closest workshop, and there he saw the true wonders of the Human Expedition's machinery.

Noise, sparks and smoke were everywhere. The loud noises ofmetal banging against metal, then grinding, then the sharp, hissing sounds of hot metal being cooled off assaulted his ears in a deafening cacaphony. Wincing, Dalrus covered his ears and looked around, trying to take in all the work going on there. He saw dwarves and those shorter people working together to assemble pieces he could not even hazard a guess what their purpose was. They would weld large pieces of metal together, install wires and engines, and suddenly their creations began to move. What drew his attention the most was what looked like a tiny house made of metal, but with wheels on it's sides and the largest cannon he had ever seen sticking out of the top. He couldn't even begin to imagine something like that moving through a battlefield and wreacking havock. His amazement and wonder were interrupted when he felt a sharp tug on his pants, close to his right foot. Looking down, he saw one of those tiny people scowling at him. He assumed she was a female, given how despite her petite figure, her curves and assets were rather... _Disproportional._ Her pink hair was combed back in a pair of pigtails sticking out the sides of her head, with protector goggles hoisted up to her forehed. From what he could tell, she was wearing suspension pants so tiny they would fit a doll, with a white tunic underneath and thick leather gloves on her big hands. She was clearly saying something, though Dalrus couldn't quite make it out through all that noise. Squatting down, he cupped a hand behind his ear and turned his head so it was right before her mouth. "WHAT?" He shouted.

And then he felt the girl grab his ear, pull him down and scream with an adorably high pitched voice: "THIS PLACE ISN'T FOR SIGHTSEEING! MOVE!" Wincing and rubbing his poor ear, Dalrus stepped aside and saw her drag along a cart full of what he would describe as junk and spare parts. Then he felt a poke on his right shoulder, and a slightly more grave - though not any less shriveled - voice say: "Excuse me, fella! This place is for engineers only! Would you follow me, please?"

Turning around, Dalrus saw the tiny man on the robot chicken he had followed in earlier speaking to him, still proudly seated atop his mount. He was waving for Dalrus to follow, which the rogue happily obliged. They left the construction area and entered what appeared to be a lobby, with a small counter and a bored-looking dwarf lady shifting through some strange cards Dalrus had never seen before. They had images of creatures on the top, some text on the bottom, as well as numbers on the corners. FInally, Dalrus and his escort stopped by a couch on the side of the room, and he saw the tiny press a button on his robot chicken mount, which promptly lowered itself down on the floor so it's rider could get off. The little man had an almost completely bald head, save for a few patches of hair on the sides, thought that was well concealed by the goggles he wore around it. He had a big round nose on his friendly-looking face, and a sharp, well-trimmed beard surrounding his jaw. He was dressed in the same manner as the girl who shouted at Dalrus earlier. "Howdy there, friend! Name is Sticks Hardbones! Can I help you with anything?" He said, smiling up at the rogue.

"Ah... Yeah. Uh..." Dalrus scratched his head, puzzled as he looked down at the miniature person before him. "I, ah... I mean, I don't want to sound rude, but..."

"Ah! You're one of those Gilnean fellows, aren't you?" Sticks said, clapping his hands in understanding. Dalrus assumed his accent had given it away. "So this is probably your first time seeing gnomes, eh? I can't say I blame you, we spent most of our lives in our city! Then those despicable undead came and drove us off!"

Dalrus blinked. "You're a gnome?" He said, suddenly reminded of the tales of the gnomes he heard as an infant. Minuscle people who were very hard workers and were capable of creating things that could move without the slightest bit of magic. "Oh, damn, you're a gnome!" He said, slapping himself on the forehead. "Blimey, mate! Sorry, I just... I never even..."

"Haha, quite alright, friend, quite alright! At least you didn't mistake us for dwarven children like those elves!" Sticks said, hands raised in a pacific gesture as he continued to smile at Dalrus. "We showed ourselves more around Khaz Modan anyway! I can't blame humans for not knowing much about us. Heck, I myself had never even spoken to a human before joining Lady Jaina's Expedition! But life sure is full of twists and turns, eh?"

It was really adorable how cheerful the little guy was. Dalrus was unable to hold back a smile of his own. "Well, if you say so! But truth be told, I was more amazed by what you're doing in there... I mean, I had seen tanks and mechanical gates before, but... This..." He gestured to the robot chicken who was rumbling and vibrating on the floor. "What the bloody hell even is this!? It's blowing my mind!"

Sticks seemed to be beaming with happiness. "Oh, you like it? This one is a personal design of mine! I call it the Automated Robotic Avian Walker Mark IV!" He patted his creation proudly on the head, and Dalrus saw a puff of black smoke come out of a pipe on it's rear end. "See, friend, we gnomes are a little lacking on the vertical department! So to make up for our shortcomings, we really focused ourselves in the marvels of engineering! Doesn't matter how small you are, you can always build something great!"

Placing his hands on his hips, Dalrus shook his head in amazement. "Yeah, no kidding... I mean, how does this even work? Do you use magic? Is this some kind of golem, or something?"

For the first time, Sticks lost his smile, and a comically grumpy expression took over his round face. "I assure you it is not! What you're looking at is a marvel of engineering! No magic is imbued whatsoever! The only thing it utilizes is an electrical battery to power it's circuits! Everything else is the result of hard labour and years of research and maybe a few explosions!"

Squatting down so he was at eye level with the robotic mount, Dalrus leaned his head from side to side to watch it from different angles. "Holey moley... I didn't understand half of what you said. But it doesn't use any magic at all, then?" He touched it on the tip of it's metallic beak with his finger. It didn't react inthe slightest. "Gnomes are really amazing if you can come up with stuff like this..."

Already he could see Sticks had a silly smile on his face once more and was turning away from him. "Ah, well, I mean, if you want to say it like that... I guess it really is pretty impressive, isn't it? A lot of people mocked my design choices, but clearly they had never understood the functionality of this body shape!"

Standing up straight, Dalrus peered back the way they came earlier, the loud noises coming from the workshop still very much audible even all the way there. "And what else are you guys working on in there? Some kind of giant machine to smash the Legion, or something?"

"Heavens, no! The energy core necessary to power up one of the colossal-sized constructs would be..." Sticks caught himself mid-sentence, then let out a little cough and perked up. "I-I mean, that is classified information! I can't give away our secrets to just anyone! I'm sure you understand."

"Ah, right... Of course..." Dalrus stroked his chin pensively, wondering what other kinds of mechanical marvels the gnomes had in stock. And then that moment he heard a little ding come from the other side. Turning around, Dalrus saw the door that gave out to the main street open up. A pair of elves came inside. Although he had seen some of them at the inn last night, this was the first time he was getting a real close look at them.

He could tell it was a male and a female. The female wore a long red dress, her smooth, silken dark hair cascading down her back and held up by a small tiara over her head. Her eyes were a deep glowing green, and her long ears could be seen jutting out the sides of her head, as could her equally long eyebrows. Her body was quite slender, but despite her thin limbs Dalrus could tell there was rythm and purpose behind her every movement, even as she walked. Her face was rather thin, as if it were stretched up, with a long, pointy chin and high cheek bones. Her lips were a strong red, as were her fingernails. As for the male, the only difference Dalrus could make between them was that he had less curves and no breasts. Both were carrying long staffs on their backs, adorned with jewels at the tip. _'Bloody hell, how do they tell each other apart?'_ He thought as he scratched his head in puzzlement.

"Ah, Ariella, Llaelnor! Great to see you again, friends! Are you here about your order?" Sticks said, turning around to face the newcomers.

The two elves turned in unison and both looked straight at Dalrus, who had one hand on his waist and the other on the back of his head. They held eye contact in silence for a long time before Dalrus pointed down and said: "Ah... He was the one who spoke, not me."

Looking down, the saw Sticks, who was still smiling at them. "Ah, yes. Something's turned up. We will be deployed before sundown and we need it immediately." The man said. Dalrus had no idea what gender could be attributed to the names Sticks said earlier. He decided to flip a mental coin, and call him Ariella. His voice was deep, grave and unmistakably masculine, despite his looks being the exact opposite of that. "We are leaving for our meal now with our fellow mages. We expect the package to be ready by the time we are finished." The woman, whom Dalrus thought of as Llaelnor, said, her voice surprisingly grave, like the man's, albeit it had a noticeable feminine thone behind it.

"Ah, friends, to ask it before lunch, that is a little-" Without even paying attention to him, the two elven mages turned around and left. Sticks sighed and rubbed his head with the back of his hand. "Well, it's fine... I wasn't even too hungry anyway! Guess I'll be skipping lunch to finish their order, haha! Sorry, friend! It was great talking to you, but duty calls!" And with that, Sticks hopped onto his mechanical mount and trotted off back to the workshop. The dwarven attendant hadn't even looked up from her cards that whole time. "Uh... Well, alright then. Guess I'll, uh... Be going." Dalrus said to her, thought he doubted she was even listening to him. With a shrug, he left the same way the two stuck-up elves had earlier. By the time he left, he felt a grumble on his stomach and was reminded why he left the barracks earlier in the first place. "Oh, right. Food." He said, turning around and making his way towards the inn. To his dismay, however, there was a huge line of people sticking out of the entrance. Letting out a sigh of defeat, the rogue hunched over and began to drag his feet back towards the barracks... Looked like he would be feasting on cold grub today.

"Oh, hey, it's you! Darius, right?" He heard someone presumably call out to him. Turning around, he saw the waitress girl who had been working at the inn last night smiling at him, her hands holding each other over her long yellow skirt. She wore a dusty tunic that he presumed was once white from the waist up. "Remember me? I'm Trisha! I work at the inn at night!"

Standing up straight, Dalrus cleared his throat and smiled back at her. "Oh, yeah, sure, I remember! And it's actually Dalrus, not Darius. Shouldn't you be working now, sugar?"

He saw the girl lift her hands to try and hide her silly little giggle as he called her that. "Ah, no, mister! I only work the night shift. My sister takes the day shift! Can't say I envy her, look at all these people..." She looked back at the long line. "Then again, at least there aren't any mean drunks during the day. So I guess we balance it out!"

"Ah, yeah, I can see how that would work..." His stomach grumbled again, and Dalrus rubbed his belly. "Oh, sorry about that. I was on my way back to the barracks to grab some lunch..."

"Oh! You haven't eaten yet?" Trisha was suddenly beaming at him. "I was about to go eat myself! Maybe... You'd like to join me?" She shied away from him, the girl unable to look him in the eye as she fiddled with the edges of her skirt. "I mean, I never met an adventurer my age before... I reckon you gots lots of stories to tell, mister!"

His face brightening up in a smile, Dalrus eagerly nodded at her. "Oh, yeah, I'd love to, Trisha! As they say... Food's always better with good company, eh?" Once again the girl was hit by a giggle fit. He wondered if she would do that every time he complimented her. "Alrighty, then! Right this way, mister!" And with that, she turned around and quickly made her way around the inn towards the back, Dalrus following her closely. They made their way through a door that gave directly in to the kitchen. It was pure chaos there; a pudgy, middle aged lady was moving back and forth over a huge stove where three pots were cooking something that smelled delicious while meat was spinning over huge spitroasts to the side. A large wooden table with several plates was laying in the middle of the room, and Dalrus saw the lady occasionally fill a bowl or plate with food and leave it there. He could also hear the loud chatter and the shouts of the inn owner coming from the balcony on the other side. "This way, come on! And try not to get in Ma's way!" Trisha said, holding Dalrus by his wrist and guiding him along the wall to a stairway leading upstairs. The woman was far too busy to pay them any attention, so they climbed the wooden stairs up to the second story. The family's rooms were there; Dalrus saw a large one with a couple's bed where he assumed Trisha's parents slept, then another one facing that with two smaller beds, which he assumed was for Trisha and her sister. The girl kept guiding him down the hallway until they reached a balcony. "Pa' says this spot is just for us!" She proudly declared, and Dalrus stood there, his mouth hanging open as he took in the view.

The balcony was facing the ocean that surrounded Kalimdor. He could see the huge waves crashing against the shore below, as well as the watch towers surrounding the beach. "Holy nanners... This is amazing..." He said, breaking into a grin. Not like he was a stranger to the ocean, but seeing it from atop a rocking boat with thirty other men surrounding you from all sides and seeing it from a balcony with a girl were two completely different things. He noticed she was still holding his wrist, and slowly he curled his fingers around hers.

He saw the girl grow stiff, and he could clearly see she had suddenly become very nervous. It was subtle, but he could tell her pulse was racing. "Ah, yeah! I, uh... Right, the food! I'm gonna bring it over right now! You jut wait here!" Rapidly, she let go of his hand, lifted her skirt a tad and raced down along the hallway. He could hear her steps on the wooden floor, and grinned in amusement at her nervousism. Turning back to face the amazing view off the balcony, he rested his elbows onto the wooden railing and hunched over, taking in the view as well as the warm sun washing over his face. The sea breeze ruffled his disheveled black hair, which was growing longer as of late. The sea salt had somewhat hardened his hair, causing several spikes to poke out in all directions whilst also hardening it a bit. Not only that, but finally the shade of a beard was starting to appear along his jaw and chin. Time sure went by fast ever since they left Gilneas. He wondered how his parents were doing... He hoped they wouldn't be too angry or worried that he had decided to leave like that. Especially Silvius... Crikey, the old man would probably skin him alive if he knew what the boy had planned. Closing his eyes, Dalrus could even picture the angry man scowling at him, waving his dagger around...

 _"How long do you intend to run?"_

And there it was.

 _"Only death awaits you here... There is no hope..."_

 _'Cool story, mate. I liked it better the first five times you told me. Little less so the other twenty.'_

 _"You think you can save him... That you can protect him... But little do you know... He is already doomed to a fate far worse than death."_

 _'Come again?'_

"Here you go!" Trisha's voice came from behind. Dalrus opened his eyes and looked back at the girl who was now holding a basket full of fruits, bread and a few strays of dried up jerky. On the other hand she had a jar of water and two cups. She was quite skillfully balancing all that on her arms. "I know it's not as fancy as you got back in your home, but it sure fills our bellies!"

Washing the dark alien thoughts out of his mind, he took an apple out of the basket with a 'thank you' and helped her fill the cups with water. Trisha silently munched on a slice of bread as Dalrus took a bite out of his fruit. "Mmmph... This is good stuff, love! Really juicy!" He declared once he had swallowed the first bite.

"Ah, yeah, it's them apples my pa uses to make some of his brew with. Says he learned the techniques from some strange furred creature from a distant land or something. It's great!" She broke her bread open and put a slice of jerky inside before taking a bite. "So! You're not from Lordaeron, right? My pa says you're from Gilneas?"

"That's right." He declared, spinning the apple over hir finger to impress her before biting into it once more.

"Ah. Yeah, my pa don't like those Gilnean folks. Says you're traitors or somethin' for not obbeying the king's call like vassals should." She casually said, taking a drink of water afterwards.

Dalrus almost choked on his apple. Smacking his chest several times, he coughed as he felt tears form on the corners of his eyes. "Blargh... Ex... Cuse me!? Vassals?" He said amidst gasps. "Oy, Gilneans ain't nobody's vassal, love. We are our own country, our own kingdom. We had no obligation to do what those coots back in Stormwind and Lordaeron told us to."

Trisha looked back at him with raised brows. "Really? Pa' says you people should serve the king and do as he said. And because you were too scared to fight in the war, things went the way they did. But he does say a lot of mean things about a lot of stuff, so I don't pay a lot of attention to it anyway!"

Dalrus shook his head in dismay. "No, that's not what happened at all, love. We simply decided we didn't want any more wars. So Greymane went and build a wall around our country so no one would attack or invade us anymore. And still we went through quite the ordeal when those walking corpses came knocking on our door..."

"Oh, wow! You mean you fought the undead? Those things were so scary! I only saw them from really far away..." She was staring at him with wide eyes. "But it was still so scary... Some were missing half their face! And the smell... Eww, it was like rotting fish! Or rats... Or worse..."

He managed to chuckle at that. "Oh, trust me, it's nothing compared to the stench of a full army of those things... And still, those undead were pretty tame compared to the worgen that came afterwards!"

Trishe blinked in confusion. "What's a wuggin, mister?"

For the next hour or so, Dalrus and Trisha simply stood there, eating as Dalrus related to her the ocurrings on Gilneas since the first day he heard about the undead threat. He told her pretty much everything; the tales of the undead rising, his brother leaving to join the fight, the siege of Gilneas, how he single-handedly stopped an invasion within the city... And then the worgen invasion.

"...Claws like daggers! Seriously, I bet they couldn't even curl their fingers into a fist without stabbing themselves!" He was saying through a mouthful of bread, one hand holding the pastry as the other was curling his fingers over his head to better illustrate how long the worgen claws were. "Saw them slice through wood like it was butter! And those teeth... Oooh, boy. Don't get me started on their fangs!"

"Oh, wow... And how did you get out?" Asked Trisha, who was now resting both of her elbows on the railing so she could place her chin on her hands and stare up at him in awe. Dalrus could see every single one of her freckles shining against the past-midday sun.

Dalrus stuffed his chest out proudly. "Ah, well... With a quick mind, and even quicker reflexes, I-" His heroic tale was interrupted as a bell began to ring all over town. Then they heard a man on horseback race along the streets as he yelled: "CALLING THE MEMBERS OF THE GILNEAS BRIGADE! REPEAT, ALL MEMBERS OF THE GILNEAS BRIGADE! YOU ARE TO REPORT TO THE BARRACKS IMMEDIATELY! ATTENTION, ALL MEMBERS OF THE..." His voice trailed off as he continued to race along the garrison, alerting all members of the Gilneas Brigade to report back to the barracks.

With a sigh of frustration, Dalrus stretched his back and smiled down at Trisha. "Well, love. This has been a real good time, but duty is calling!" And with that, he hopped on top of the wooden railing, looking down at the floor two stories below.

"Oh... Wait! I, uh..." Looking back, Dalrus saw the girl was once again fiddling with her skirt as she avoided looking at him. "I had a really great time, Dal! So, maybe... If you'd like, we could have lunch again?"

The rogue watched her in silence for a few more moments, watching as she nervously tugged at her skirt and shifted the weight on her feet. Finally, he hopped off from his perch, then, walking up to the girl, he gently cupped her chin in between his fingers. She was very surprised by this, and it was with wide eyes that she looked up at Dalrus as he lowered his face against hers and planted a sweet, soft kiss open her lips. It only lasted a few seconds, but as he pulled back, his eyes were half closed and he was smiling warmly at her. "That would be lovely, beautiful." Were his last words before turning around and leaping off the edge of the balcony, landing on the floor with cat-like reflexes and strutting off towards the barracks with a belly full of quality food, a sweet memmory in his mind and an even sweeter taste upon his lips.


	17. Chapter 17 - The Gilneas Brigade

_**Chapter 17 - The Gilneas Brigade**_

Everyone was properly lined up on square ranks by the time Dalrus arrived at the barracks. Locating his brother, he began to sneak his way through the heavily armored people, saying 'excuse me, coming through, sorry' again and again until finally he reached Felrus. "What's up, bro?"

Felrus scowled at him. "Be quiet, Dalrus! Stand in position behind me and don't make a noise!" He hissed, never breaking his 'stand guard' position. Rolling his eyes, Dalrus did as he was told, then looked over everyone's heads, bored and curious about what was going on.

There were a few officers there, facing the army. Men and women with the prettiest and most expensive-looking armor, as well as an elf or two with pretty robes and shiny staffs. Eventually, Lady Jaina Proudmoore herself arrived, accompanied by a rather robust dwarf. He was holding a large axe on one hand, an even larger hammer on the other, and wore a horned helmet on his head. His blonde beard and mustache covered his face from the nose down entirely. His beard with adorned with skulls from what Dalrus assumed were orcs, and he wore some heavy mail armor with the blue collors of the Human Expedition.

Lady Jaine stood in front of the officers, cleared her throat, then spoke up: "Brave soldiers from Gilneas! After a long debate with your captain, we have finally decided where you shall be assigned to!"

"Wait, we're not staying here?" Dalrus asked Felrus, who hushed him.

"To the western coast of Kalimdor lay the Stonetalon Mountains." The beautiful young mage continued to speak. "There, we have received reports of orc movement. The clan Warsong, led by Grommash Hellscream, attacks our outposts, and we have heard reports of even more orc-filled ships arriving from the south. We fear that they may receive reinforcements, and so, we are sending you to help defend the passage to Stonetalon Peaks!"

Whispers ran along the soldier lines, mostly discussing the name of the orc chief, who apparently was a big deal. "Oi, Fel." Dalrus whispered, poking his brother on the back. "Who the heck is this Grommit fellow?" Once again, Felrus gave him a rash shush, then turned his attention back to the mage who was not yet done speaking. "Make yourselves ready! Me and my fellow surviving mages of the Kirin Tor shall use our magic to transport you to the outpost. It will take a few minutes to make our preparations, after which, you will leave immediately. Once you arrive, you will answer to one of the dwarven Mountain Kings, called..." Dalrus didn't pay attention to the Mountain King's name, for he was too busy trying to figure out what the heck was a Mountain King in the first place. Maybe it was some sort of giant dwarven invention? He pictured a stone giant with ridiculously stubby arms and legs and a beard made of magma trampling over the enemy lines... "...And that is all you need to know to ensure your survival out there. I wish you best of luck, heroes of the Expedition!" By the time he realized they had been dismissed, people were already moving around Dalrus like ants whose hill had just been kicked. "Oh, bugger! Wait, Fel!" He says, running after his brother.

It only took them a few minutes to gather their belongings, then assemble with the rest of the Brigade by the Keep's center. Dalrus wanted to say goodbye to Trisha before leaving, but there was simply no time. He saw her looking out of the balcony where they had lunch together just a few minutes ago, watching the soldiers march to their stations. He wondered if she noticed him amongst the ranks. Then he let out a somewhat sorrowful sigh and peered out over the Keep's stone walls towards the horizon where they would be moved to. The proespect of fighting orcs was a little exciting for him. Of course he had heard of them, as had everyone. Dalrus imagined them as gigantic brutes that looked more like shaved gorillas with green skin and tusks jutting out of their mouths. He had heard they were bloodthirsty, brainless savages who enjoyed killing. But then there was that new warchief of theirs... Apparently that guy knew how to use his brain. Enough to sneak most of his people out of the camps they were being kept. "Men! Form ranks of five by five!" The captain ordered. Dalrus ended up on the first squad along with his brother. They all marched forward in unision towards a huge glowing circle on the ground, Dalrus standing right on the center. Jaina was standing in front of the group, with three other mages standing in cardinal spots along the circle. "Alright, uhm... OK. You may want to close your eyes!" She said, her hands high in the air and glowing with energy. Dalrus saw a light-blue shell of magical energy surround the group, and felt the air grow heavy and charged with power. "Oh boy." He said, holding his bag close to his body. He could see his brother, who was just next to him, acting just as uncomfortable as Dalrus himself. "Uh... I'm not sure this is a good ide-" He began to say when suddenly the universe exploded.

There was a maelstrom of swirling light surrounding him. Entire worlds and universes flashed before his eyes too fast for his brain to register. His entire body throbbed and tingled, overtaken by that massive load of information and sensations. He did not know what was up or down, he did not know where he was, when he was, who he was. He began to lose himself amidst that maelstrom, his mind drifting to become one with the endless multiverse...

And then he fell flat-faced onto the dusty floor. Spitting dirt out of his mouth, he lifted his head to see an armored soldier offering him a helping hand to stand. Moaning in pain, he gladly took the hand and stood up, coughing and trying to get his bearings. "Easy there, son. The first time is always a trip." Said a metallic voice from above. Dalrus assumed whoever was aiding him was wearing a helmet, as was pretty much every single soldier in that entire place. He was set down by a wooden chair, and had to hold his head with his hands to help make the world stop spinning. "Crikey..." Was all he managed to say as his vision began to focus once more. He lifted his head and blinked a few times to clear his sight and take in where he was.

The new garrison looked a bit like the one he had just teleported out of... Except this one was mostly empty. The person who had aided him had already left to help the others get up, dozens of Gilnean soldiers being teleported in through bright flashes of light and materializing in the air above a magic circle much like the one they had utilized back at the coast. Four mages were also helping keep the teleportation circle working, although these were all elves. In fact, as he looked around, Dalrus saw close to no humans there, aside from a few officers. Mostly they were comprised of dwarves and elves. Dalrus suspected his group would be the one to fill the human quota. People were still being ported in, most of them stumbling down and being aided in the same way as he was. Localizing his brother, Dalrus managed to stand up and walk up to him amidst the chaos of the newly arriving people. "Hey... How you feeling?" He said, sitting next to Felrus, who was cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed. "Don't... Talk... To me..." Was all he said, the armored lad looking very tense with his eyes closed. Fearing for the safety of his boots, Dalrus was quick to step back. Looking around, he saw their captain speaking to the very same heavily armored dwarf who had been by Jaina's side back at their garrison. He figured that was probably the so called 'Mountain King'.

Now that he could take a better look at the place, the rogue realized the place wasn't quite a garrison or a keep, it was more like an encampment. Barracks and sentry towers showed clear signs of having been recently - and somewhat hastily - built. Also, rather than facing the sea to one side and an arid wasteland to the other, now they were surrounded by mountains. Tall, orange, dust-covered mountains. Dalrus could see that to their north there was a passage leading through the mountains, and also, two more camps within sight; one to their direct south, the other to the northwest. "Huh. Guess they really don't want the orcs to move here." He said, scratching his head. Both camps were barely dots in the distance, and appeared to be about half a day's march away from where they stood.

"Men! Attention! Take your places, form ranks!" The Gilnean captain was speaking. Slowly, the soldiers - who had finally finished being ported in - began to gather in ranks at the center of the encampment. It took a few minutes - after all, everyone was still dealing with the aftereffects of that magical trip - but eventually, order was restored. It was then that the captain stood in front of everyone and said: "Listen up! Henceforth, the Gilneas Brigade shall play it's role on this conflict! Command of our unit will be surrendered to the dwarven thane..." Once again, Dalrus began to doze off amidst the speech, mishearing their new commander's name yet again. He would only think of him as the 'Mountain King' anyway. He had assumed they would be on their own out here, but having an assortment of elven mages and dwarven engineers would be a most welcome aid. He wondered why there was no sign of the gnomes, though. Introductions went on for a good half of an hour - a few inspiring speeches about how it was Gilneas' turn to do their part, how they should not fail their new allies, to forge the bonds of trust, yadda yadda blood thirsty evil orcs and demons falling from the sky. Just when he was seriously considering vanishing from sight and looking for someplace to nap, the soldiers all let out a cheerful shout and began to break off, heading to various directions. "About bloody time." Dalrus said, stretching his arms and letting out a long yawn. "So, this is gonna be our new home, eh Fel?"

His brother looked rather stern. His hand was clutching the armored shoulder where the worgen bite mark was. "Hmmm... Yeah." He distractedly said, throwing his bag over the other shoulder and moving towards the barracks.

Blinking in confusion, Dalrus felt concern rise within him. He had assumed the priest's medicine had done a fine enough job already to take care of his brother's shoulder, but lately, Felrus looked more and more bothered by it. "Oi, you alright? Is something wrong with your shoulder?" He said, rushing to Felrus' side.

Felrus refused to look his brother in the eye, instead looking to the side where the soldiers were already starting to march towards the barracks to drop their belongings. "I'm fine, Dalrus. The scar throbs sometimes... But the medicine usually holds that sensation back. It's not gonna be a problem while I'm fighting, I promise."

"Who said anything about fighting!? You should get that thing checked!" Dalrus shook his head and sighed. "Maybe one of those elves has an idea of how to treat this? How bad is it, anyway? I haven't taken a look at it since we left home."

His brother made a very awkward expression. "You sure you want to look?"

Dalrus reciprocated the look. "Yikes. Is it that bad?"

Felrus hesitated. "Eh... It's..." Looking around first to make sure no one was looking, he leaned in closer and whispered in a hushed tone. "It's got hair growing around it and it's really odd, OK? It's like the wound is sprouting fur around it."

Both of Dalrus' brows raised high on his forehead in surprise. "Bloody hell, mate. Don't tell me you're turning into one of those things."

"Yeah, very funny." His brother grunted, once again hurling his sack over his back and resuming their march towards their new barracks.

The duo had only made it a few paces forward before suddenly a voice behind they said: "Hold it."

Felrus immediatly turned around and got in a saluting position, whereas Dalrus only bothered looking over his shoulder and saying: "Eh?"

The one speaking to them was an elf. A lady elf, at that. She wore a tight green outfit with swirling details along the fabric that looked like they were woven out of pure gold. Her hair was long and dark, falling over her shoulders, and she wore a long cowl over her head, although the cowl sported a pair of holes on the sides, from which her long ears were sticking out, making Dalrus wonder what the point of wearing that in the first place was, and if she went through the careful trouble of sliding her ears in and out of those holes each time she removed and put the cowl back on. Not only that, but her eyebrows were slightly pushed down by the sides of the cowl, which looked really awkward. _'Am I the only one who sees this?'_ He thought to himself. _'It looks so bloody inconspicuous! I mean, seriously, imagine if I had a mustache like that, then tried to put a cowl on, and my mustache just sticked our of the sides. Bloody hell.'_ On her thin waist, she wore a leather belt with a pair of short swords attached to it, as well as a bow and quiver strapped across her back.

"You." She said, pointing at Dalrus. "Soldier. Why aren't you wearing your armor? This isn't a playground. We could be attacked any moment!"

 _'I don't see you wearing anything too heavy either, lady.'_ Was what he thought, but what the young rogue said was: "I'm already wearing my armor, lady. This is thick, good Gilnean leather." He proudly declared, patting his black shirt as he stuffed his chest out. "Besides, I'm not a front-line fighter. I'm more of the sneak-around and stab-them-in-the-back kind of fellow, eh?"

The elven woman scoffed and Dalrus instantly disliked her more, watching her thin pink lips twist into a smirk of disdain. "A child like you, an assassin? I was told not to expect much of the Gilnean Brigade, but this is already insulting." She shook her head. "This isn't a game, boy. We don't have time to deal with children wanting to play war. What kind of fool would let you join the army anyway?" She looked around, as if searching for a parent to blame for their child's misbehavior.

Dalrus blinked, trying to fully take in all the insults the elven snob threw his way. "Oy..." He began to say, already taking a step towards her when he felt his brother's hand pressing against his chest. "My lady, with all due respect..." He was saying, trying to hold Dalrus back. "My brother here is a prodigy in the fine arts of subtlety. Despite his young age, I assure you that he is more than capable to serve in our army and do his part in this war. If you were to take a look at his skills, I am certain that you would be surprised."

Despite the fact her eyes were a glowing green devoid of any other details, Dalrus could see the disdain behind them. "Oh, really? I suppose you expect me to believe this... _Infant,_ even by your own human standards, has the skill to infiltrate an orc encampment, assassinate their leaders, steal important documents and make it back here without stepping over his trousers along the way?"

 _'Bitch, I'm gonna...!'_ Dalrus opened his mouth to speak, but once again his brother cut in. "Please, my lady. I understand why you would be suspicious the way he is now, but once again, I assure you, if you were to give him a chance, you would be very much impressed by his capacity."

They both watched the elf put a hand on her hip and the other on her forehead as she lowered her head and sighed. "I don't have time to babysit-"

"Captain Lyfara, I presume!" Suddenly the voice of the Gilnean captain called out from their right. The group looked in that direction and saw him approaching them with the dwarven Mountain King by his side. "Pleased to meet you. I am captain Victor Bellsford. I understand you are the leader of our intelligence and espionage squad?"

"That is correct, captain." The elf said, turning to face them and completely ignoring the Plaguefang brothers. "I was hoping that perhaps you could have brought some new members to join our team, as we are sorely lacking in numbers. Sad to say, I was dissappointed."

"Ah, yes... I am afraid Lord Silvius could not join our expedition." The captain said with a curt nod, stopping a few paces from her. "Tis' a shame, but he was gravely wounded during the battle back in our city. I had heard his apprentice was amongst our ranks, however. A spry young lad by the name of Dalrus Plaguefang. I was a bit hesitant to let him in at first, but as Lord Silvius himself oversaw his training from a very young age, I conceded an exception."

"Silvius Moonbite?" Dalrus half expected the elf's ears to perk up like an excited dog's upon hearing that. He was very disappointed when they didn't. "I had heard of his skill. His abilities were of great use during the previous war, even while the rest of his nation didn't do much more." He saw the woman stroke her chin pensively. "I wasn't aware he was training an apprentice. Might be interesting. Where may I find this 'Dalrus'? I'd like to see his skills for myself."

This time, Dalrus was the one to cover his brother's mouth as he arrogantly stepped forward, pushed out his cockiest, unleashed his most gallant grin and cleared his through loud enough to draw the attention of five other people who were walking around them. "Hiding in plain sight, as your beautiful glowing eyes couldn't see until now, _my lady._ " He said in a venomously polite tone, then took what was possibly the most exagerated and disrespectful bow of his life.

"Ah, there you were! Good, good!" Seemengly oblivious to the atmosphere between Dalrus and the elf, captain Bellsford walked in between them both and pulled Dalrus closer. "Lady Lyfara, this is Dalrus. I am certain you will find his skills most useful to your group."

The expression on her face was absolutely glorious. "You cannot be serious. You can't mean to allow this... _Child_ to-"

"Me lord! A moment of yer' time!" They saw a dwarf carrying a pile of scrolls and papers on his arms rushing at them. "We need ta' gloss over the newest information gathered, bring yer people up ta speed, yes?"

"Right he is, aye." The Mountain King spoke for the first time with a nod. His voice sounded very generic amongst the dwarves. "Lyfara, I'll leave the lad to ya. He's under yer command now. We will be busy getting the soldiers ready fer battle. We are all part of this 'Gilnean Brigade' now, eh? Better be nice ta' each other!" And with that, the heavily armored dwarf gave them all a curt nod and left with his kin and the captain to discuss who knew what. Dalrus had the most condenscending smile on his face as he looked up at the frustrated elf. "Welp, you heard the Mountain King! Let's get along swimmingly, eh?" Felrus simply palmed his face and shook his head.

Lyfara took in a deep breath, then shook her head and glared down at him. She then muttered something in some strange gibberish Dalrus had no idea what it meant, then turned around and began moving in the opposite direction. "And that's my cue! See you later, Fel!" Dalrus happily said, picking his own bag up and following her among the crowds of moving people.

The woman never even looked back as she walked. Dalrus could see she stepped lightly on the dirty ground, barely producing a sound with her boots. Not that he would hear her steps among the noise of all the soldiers moving about anyway. She made her way towards the edges of the camp, and Dalrus followed her closely behind. Eventually, they made it to a small, dusty tent. The woman made her way inside through the front, so Dalrus went in right after her.

It wasn't very large, not even half the size of the barracks the soldiers enjoyed. A row of poles in the center helped hold the tent up, while spikes on the outside held the edges down. Fortunately, they were right besides the tall mountains, so there wasn't any wind blowing even more dust in. A pair of tables were placed in between the pillars, covered with scrolls, maps and other parchments, which Dalrus assumed contained valuable information within. Along the wall and hanging between even more support pillars were beds and sleeping nets, one of which was occupied by another elf - this time a male - clad in black clothes similar to Dalrus but, of course, adorned with golden details like Lyfara. Dalrus pondered if those people cared more about whether they looked good rather than if they were wearing armor that was actually functional. As they entered, the elf opened his eye and lifted his head at them. His hair was blonde and combed back over his head, his jaw large and square with a short beard along it. "Lyfara, there's a child following you." He said, to which Dalrus simply rolled his eyes. She looked back and almost looked surprised to see Dalrus standing behind her with his bag over his shoulder and his other hand on his pocket, which he proceeded to lift up and wave at her as he said: "Yo."

"What do you think you're doing here?" She hissed, walking up to him bending down slightly as she looked down at him. Unimpressed, he simply shrugged and said: "Well, since I'm gonna be working under you, I figured the best place to do that was at where I assume is our center of operations."

As she had done a few times before, the woman held her forehead and took in a deep breath. "I don't care what kind of game you and that captain of yours think you're playing, but this is not a place for children. I cannot afford to watch over a youngling while we carry out the most vital and dangerous missions in this garrisson. The commander says we should mingle with humans, fine. But I will not admit that they get in the way of our work."

He withheld a rather bored look during her little speech. After she was done, he calmly dropped his bag to the ground, knelt besides it, opened it up, pulled out an apple from within and took a bite out of it. "Yeah, that's a nice speech, lady. Though, if I didn't know better, I would think you're trying to insult me when you call me a child." He said through a mouthful of apple as he stared dead into her glowing green eyes. "It's almost as if you think I'm incapable. Imagine that."

He heard a little chuckle come from the elf on the net, and saw Lyafra's eyebrow twitch lightly. "You keep pushing my patience, and I'll strap you to a boulder and use you as ammunition against the orcs!"

"Hey, I'm not pushing anything. This is starting to get old already." He took another bite out of his apple and began to idly toss it up and down over his hand. "All you do is call me an infant and say I'm incapable. But all you got based on to judge me are looks. You haven't even seen what I can do yet."

She had already opened her mouth to answer when some rustling came from behind him. Looking back, Dalrus saw a trio of people walking in; a rugged old human man draped in dark clothes and a long scarf around his neck and a pair of elves wearing dark masks that covered their faces. Dalrus began to suspect all elves enjoyed to wear gold as if they believed it was a pratical thing to wear in battle as he watched those same details and patterns the other two wore on their armor. "Back from recon, captain." The human said, loosing his scarf a bit so his mouth was free. He was about as old as Dalrus' father, if not older, if the few patches of grey hair on his head and beard were any indication. He also sported some wrinkles on his forehead, and his eyes had a certain weight behind them.

Immediately, Lyafra stood up and turned to face them, once again ignoring Dalrus. "Report."

Taking one glance at Dalrus, the man cleared his throat and began speaking: "Orc activity has increased. They have a base to the southwest. A few days' trip down the road, there was a massive landslide. It looked like the centaurs were preparing for something, but the landslide put a halt to their plans. On top of that, we sighted a caravan of orcs and the native tauren moving up towards the north in this direction. We suspect they will join up with the Warsong in a couple days."

"Damn." She turned around and moved towards the table. Following her, Dalrus saw there was a map of the south western coast of Kalimdor crudely drawn there. "If they made it past Thunderbluff, it might be their new Warchief. We must prepare our defenses."

"Lucky us the Gilneans just arrived, then." And finally, the man looked directly at Dalrus, who was still chewing on his apple. He nodded towards the man and raised his fruit in salute. "I take it this is a newcomer, then?" He inquired, facing Lyfara once more.

Dalrus saw the woman squeeze the edges of the table, then sigh deeply. "This... Is the apprentice of Silvius Moonbite. The Gilnean captain, as well as the dwarven thane, insisted that we make use of him." She said between her teeth.

Dalrus saw the three other elves share glances between each other, and the man lift a brow in interest. "You don't say? I didn't know the old Silver Fang had taken on an apprentice." The man then proceeded to remove his thick black glove and extend his hand towards Dalrus, which he noticed was missing a pinky. "Hanton Crossford. I have worked with your master before. Shame he couldn't be here himself."

Taking the offered hand, Dalrus shook it vigorously. "Dalrus Plaguefang. Actually, he's also my uncle. On the mother's side. Sadly, he had a little run-in with fanatic cultists and dark rituals, so he was a tad indisposed to join. But worry not, I'm here to fill his place."

Hanton let out a little chuckle at that. "Aye, well, good to see you're not lacking in confidence." Then they both turned to look as the elves began to hurriedly chat amongst themselves in that strange gibberish language Dalrus heard the captain mutter to herself earlier. "Huh. She's not too thrilled to have you here." Hanton said, arching his brows.

"You don't say? But she was being so nice to me up until now!" Dalrus commented, taking yet another bite of his apple.

It looked as if the male elf was making some kind of point. The other two masked elves - whom Dalrus noticed were both females from that certain volume on their chest - were glancing at his direction, then saying some things of their own. Finally, the captain raised her hands, said one last bit Dalrus had no idea what it meant, and turned to face him. "Very well, then. Against my better judgement, and sorely due to the fact we are very short-handed on personel, I shall give you a task to see if you really are what you claim to be."

"Goodness gracious, Lady Leafer, that is so generous of you! How may I repay such an act of kindess?" Dalrus said, letting out an exagerated sigh as he fanned himself with his hand.

What happened next almost made Dalrus drop his apple. He saw a flicker. Suddenly he was snapping back his head and raising his hand to grab the wrist that had just reached out for his neck. Almost too late he realized he had dropped his apple, so he had to whip out his dagger and stab it two inches above the floor. Then, looking up at the masked elf who had just attempted to choke him, he brought the dagger up to his face and took another bite from his apple. "Is this some kind of elf greeting? Because I'm not sure I'm into that." He said, lifting his leg to deflect the other hand that had just attemped to lunge for his gut. Using his knee, he blocked the blow, then threw the apple up in the air, shadowstepped behind the elf, pushed her down on her chest against the floor with her arm twisted behind her back and sat on top of her to pin her down as he caught the apple with his free hand. "But, who knows, maybe I could get used to this." He said, flashing the captain a grin.

He saw Hanton lift his brows and hold back a small impressed smile; then the male elf stroke his chin as he sat up straight on his net and eyed Dalrus up and down full of interest. The other masked elf was reaching for her belt and stepping forward when suddenly Lyfara said: "Stop! Tysse, stand back. You, get off of her. Fynna, come here."

Shrugging, Dalrus stood up and offered the fallen elf a helping hand to stand, which she promptly refused. Massaging her wrist, she walked back besides captain Lyfara. "Well. It would seem you're not all talk at the very least. And it really is true that you're Silvius' apprentice... I'd recognize that technique you just used anywhere." She barked out some orders to the elves in their language once more. They both bowed and stepped back, creepily standing side by side. Now that he was taking a closer look at them, Dalrus saw that they were almost exactly identical in body shape and height, even in hair style. They had ponytails tied back behind their heads, the only difference being one elf had deep blue hair while the other was a redhead. "Fynna and Tysse are both quite... Zealous of me. I see your childish insults as nothing more than noise, but they might not accept the disrespect the way I do. So long as you're capable of obbeying orders and performing the tasks that are given to you, I'm willing to overlook some of your disrespect. Understood?"

"Yeah, whatever you say, captain, sir." Dalrus finished eating his apple and hoisted his dagger back on his belt. "So, you were saying something about an assignment?"

Lyfara's eyes were cold as ice as she peered down at him. "Yes... I believe Thano will be able to better describe it than me, however."

Upon hearing his name, the male elf on the net hopped down from his spot and winded his arms a few times to stretch them. "Yes, just yesterday I was scouting the mountains when I spotted a harpy's nest forming up. They might bring trouble to us on the long run, so I thought it best we eliminate this evil before it takes root."

"The dwarves were given the task of making explosives, which we will plant on the harpy's nests and rid ourselves of them now before they can grow in numbers." Lyfara then scowled at Dalrus. "Thano was supposed to be aided by the sisters, but I have more important tasks for them. Therefore, it falls to you to be his support. You will answer to him, do all he says, and most importantly, not get in his way. Understood?"

Dalrus waved his hand dismissively. "Pshhht, that's easy peasy, lady. I could do something like that with my eyes closed. Heck, I could probably even go and do it by myself!"

He saw Thano smirk in amusement as Lyfara simply lifted a brow at him. "Of course you can. But unfortunately, we need an eye witness in case you slip down and fall to your untimely death. So you're accompanying him. Now, I have important matters to discuss with our commanders." And with that, she proceeded to storm out of the tent, the two elven girls - whom Dalrus presumed were the forementioned sisters - following her closely like bodyguards.

"Welp, that's one hell of a welcome!" Dalrus said, clapping his hands once and looking around. "So, is this the whole group?"

"Not quite." Hanton said. "Besides myself, the captain, Thano and the two sisters, we also have Hilda - she's a human as well - and Darthardt, a dwarf. They are currently out on a mission of their own, spying on the Warsong orcs to the south. They should be back on the morrow, however."

"Lovely." Dalrus said, then noticed Thano was squatting down next to him, a hand on his chin as he looked at the youth up and down like he was an exposit at the museum. "Uh... Like what you see, mate?"

Thano simply chuckled and stood up straight. He was exceptionally tall, even by elven standards. "Just wanted to take a closer look at you, is all." His voice was a little shrilled, and somewhat pitched. It was interesting to listen to. "Don't be too upset at my cousin for her harsh words. She's a little on edge because we lost quite a few people lately. So when we heard we would be joining a new group with massive reinforcements, she had hopes we would be refilling our numbers. Me, I personally say quality over quantity. But you can imagine how disappointed she must have been to see our only new asset was a human youngling. How old are you, by the way? In human standards, that is."

"Ah, so you're related." Dalrus scratched his head a bit. "Eh, I can't say I blame her. But she doesn't need to act so stuck-up all the time. I don't really appreciate being looked down upon. Also, if you must know... I sort of lost count. I think I was somewhere around seventeen?" He lied, trying not to sound like his young fourteens.

"Give it time, lad." Hanton patted his shoulder. "If you show her what you're made of, she'll have no reason to complain, as long as you bring her results. I was barely a boy fresh out of his spring when I tasted the battlefield for the first time myself, so I think you'll be fine. Anyway, you must be tired from the long trip. Feel free to pick any net or bed for yourself, we follow a policy of 'first come, first served'."

"The dwarves told me the explosives wouldn't be ready until tomorrow." Thano chimed in. "So I recommend you get plenty of rest and ready your climbing gear, because we are going on a long hike!"

"Dandy!" Dalrus took in a deep breath, taking in the whole atmosphere of the place. His first true task as a rogue was about to begin! "Just one question before we go."

"Shoot away." Thano said, getting back on his net.

"What the bloody hell is a harpy?"


	18. Chapter 18 - Life ain't that easy

_**Chapter 18 - Life ain't that easy**_

Dalrus kicked a pebble over and watched it as it bounced against the rocky cliffs on it's way down. The soft, dry noises it made as it hit that enourmous wall of stone again and again echoed in the narrow space around them. Him and Thano were currently transgressing along a passage in between the mountain, making their way up towards the rocky peaks, particularly towards a small depression along the walls where the harpies had built their nests on. Thano had shown him with a telescope as they were climbing. It wasn't on a visible spot from the ground, so they couldn't simply get the dwarves to catapult the extremely dangerous and deadly explosives they were now currently carrying.

"A fine work, she is!" The dwarven engineer had proudly said as he slapped - but not too hard - the spiky metal ball with a timer strapped to it's surface. "Not too heavy, but packing' jus' enough power ta' sends those blasted bird lasses scurrying off with their feathers between their legs!"

As Dalrus had been awakened about two hours before the sun had even risen, at that moment he had been in some sort of trance state where he was vaguely aware of the world around him while his mind was somehow detached from his body and transitioning through a dimension where he was still sleeping soundly on his net. So he ended up losing some details of the dwarf's explanation, such as how to safely store and handle the bombs without blowing himself and Thano up on the long way up the huge mountains. So far he had simply placed them both on the bag strapped to his back and nothing too deadly had ocurred, so he figured they were on the green for now.

The climb itself had started easy enough. His elven superior had shown him some fancy gadgets; a retracting rope around his waist with some metal spikes they could hammer into the wall to hold them in case they fell - although neither Dalrus nor Thano had felt the necessity to use even one of them so far - spiky boots to keep their adherence against the dusty ground - which he actually found kind of handy for the first five steps, then immediately left behind as he realized those things weighed more than the bombs he was carrying - a safety chute in case they fell - Dalrus didn't even bother taking his along with him - and last but not least, flares in case they needed help - Dalrus had left his along with his chute.

They had been making their way up for the past hour and a half. Thano seemed pretty cheerful about it, humming to himself and sustaining a smile as they walked among narrow rocky paths, climbed the rough walls and slowly circled the gigantic mountains to approach the harpy's nest, whilst Dalrus was bored out of his mind and desperetely wishing he had remembered to bring apples with him. It was a true mental ordeal not to ask if they were there yet every seven seconds, an even bigger one not to scream in frustration. "Bloody hell, how much longer until we are there?" He finally said after those two long and obscenely dull hours of climbing.

"Not much more, young one!" Thano happily replied as they scaled a particularly narrow stone wall. "I'd say we should make it there before sundown at this rate!"

Suddenly the urge to scream was almost surpassing his other ones.

 _'Oh my gods, I'm gonna go crazy. This is too dull.'_ He though, scaling the wall efortlessly like a spider, his hands coated in shadow energy and giving the adherence of glue to his palms and feet as he climbed and climbed and climbed. _'For the love of the Light, something please happen. Any bloody thing. Voice in my head, are you in there? Do you want to threaten me and my family of certain damnation again? Please? Maybe just chat a bit? Do you have any family or friends?'_

"Whew! I think we made it far enough for now!" Thano's voice suddenly came from above. Looking up, Dalrus saw the elf was sitting on top of a smooth protrusion on the rocky wallside, his legs crossed and his bag laying over his lap. "Let's take a moment to rest up and enjoy a nice meal, what do you say, Dal?"

"Sounds like a dandy idea, mate." Dalrus replied, sighing internally as he hopped up to where Thano was and leaning his back against the rocky wall. "So... What do we have for breakfast? We left out in such a hurry I didn't even grab anything to eat."

The elven rogue was messing around in his bag, then looked back over his shoulder at Dalrus as he pulled a loaf of bread from there. "Oh... You mean you didn't bring anything?" He asked, taking a bite out of the bread's crust. "Hmmmm... That's too bad. Guess I'm the only one enjoying a nice meal, then!"

Dalrus' eye twitched. _'Son of a...'_ "So, uh... Is that elven bread, or...?" He said out loud, trying to get his mind off his hunger.

Looking down at his bread, Thano simply shrugged and took another bite. "Eh. It's what you could call 'rations bread'. It's made to last a long time in our bags, so we can keep it there for days, even weeks without it going bad. Nothing like the bread of Quel'Thalas, though."

Dalrus lifted his brows at that. "Oh... I see. Uh... Sorry about what happened to your city, by the way."

Thano simply shrugged. "Eh... I don't have a lot of memories about it. I'm kinda young on elf terms. Not even two hundred years old yet. I've only been to the capital a few times, so I don't remember much of it. Since I was little, I've been scouting and exploring lands for us. Although... Yeah. When I heard the news... Well, the thing is..." Thano's look seemed a little distant. "It's not the loss of the city itself that shook us most... But rather... It was the loss of the Sunwell."

Dalrus blinked. "The sunwhatnow?"

The elf launched him a surprised look. "You never heard of it? It's a pretty big deal, even outside of our city. The Sunwell is... Well, used to be... One of the greatest magic sources in all land. Elves are naturally atuned to magic, so we drew a lot of sustenance from it. Well, some more than others. I was never really much the type to snort arcane power through my nose, so I've been less affected by it's loss than most. But some people are already going through magical withdrawal. Not a pretty sight. Some of them go crazy. Others grow desperate and start to search for new sources of magic to feed their hunger."

The younger rogue shivered. "Crikey. You mean like some sort of... Addiction to magic?"

Thano nodded. "Yes, I suppose that is the best way to describe it. Although, ever since arriving here, me and my kind... We have been sensing... Something." He shrugged, then finished stuffing his mouth full of bread. "Hmmm... Like... There's something here... Another source of power. It's pretty faint, though. Like it's been here a long ago, and now it's much, much weaker..."

"Huh. Go figure." Clutching his stomach, Dalrus sighed and looked up. They had made a decent long way already, but they weren't even halfway up along the mountain's height. "Say... Isn't there a better... Faster way to get up there? Like... A path that won't take our entire bloody lives?"

He saw the elf launch him a curious look. "Why, are you growing tired already?" He said with a mischievous smile.

Dalrus sighed. "No, just the opposite of that. If I knew where to go, I'm pretty sure I could get there before the boredom kills me."

Thano let out a hearty laugh at that. "Well, that's quite the claim to make! So you're saying the climb so far has been nothing to you, eh?"

Dalrus frowned. "I would think that's pretty obvious, yes."

The elf's expression switched to a rather curious one that Dalrus couldn't quite make out during that moment. He was staring straight at Dalrus while chewing on his bread, his back bent forward in a relaxed position. "Hmmmm... Alright then. As you wish... We shall be taking the faster route from now on!" He suddenly said, hopping up on his feet and turning around to resume their climb along the wall. "You coming?"

His stomach grumbling, the youth had no choice but to let out a long sigh and follow the elf. "Yeah, sure... Maybe some real exercise might be enough to get my mind out of food..." He says, planting his hands against the dry, rough rocks and resuming their climb.

The elf, however, was taking a different approach. Instead of carefully walking along the narrow ledges and getting holds wherever possible, he was now dexterously making small hops from one handhold to the other, climbing almost like a monkey. Dalrus simply watched him cover the distance that previously had taken them ten long mind-numbing minutes in just a few seconds. "Well, if that's how you want it..." Dalrus whispered to himself, before focusing on a spot that Thano had just climbed over. Stepping through the shadows, Dalrus appeared a few centimeters over the spot. Kicking down on the rock, he launched himself upwards and began to climb much in the same manner his elven senior was, his shadow-coated palms finding better adherence now that they were only lingering on the same spot for the briefest of moments. It was an interesting experience for him. Dalrus had only ever really practiced his climbing on the Wall of Greymane back home, where most of the stones were smooth slabs, save for a few crevices among them. He found that the uneven wall before him offered a much easier challenge, especially because rather than being perfectly vertical, it actually had plenty of leverage for his hands and feet. Now adrenaline was pumping into his body, and he felt his second wind kick in, giving him an extra burst of speed and stamina. He did not go too quick, however. Thano was the one leading the way, after all. It would hardly do him much good to run past the elf without any notion of where his objective was rather than 'up'.

For the next couple of hours, the two rogues continued with their somewhat reckless climb. Dalrus' palms were already starting to feel numb as he slapped them time and time again against the hard rocks, even with that thin layer of shadow energy covering them. He had never utilized it for that long before, but as he shut his brain's most conscious functions off and focused solely on his instinct and reflexes to climb, he found it was much easier to continue to channel the power of the Void. It flowed through his body like wind entering his lungs, filling him with energy and pouring out throug his palms and feet, helping him remain attached to the mountain before him. Again and again, he would reach up, grab a ledge, push down, repeat. His mind wandered off to his home, and he wondered how his parents and teacher were handling the fact he had left with his brother. He imagined his father would be angry at first, but eventually would be proud that he was out there doing his part... Just pissed off at the fact he hadn't announced his intentions to leave. His mother would most likely be besides herself with worry. That made him feel a little knot in his heart. It pained him to know he would be bringing her more worry and distress... He hoped she would forgive him. His uncle, on the other hand... Dalrus swallowed dryly as he pondered what would Master Silvius do had he been in condition to stop him. Probably pull out some new bottle of poison saved especially for that kind of situation... After tracking him down across the ocean and into a new continent.

Dalrus was so lost in his thoughts that when he suddenly felt a hand grab the back of his collar and pull him into a small cave on the rock side, he almost instinctively stabbed Thano on the ribs. Instead, he simply fell on his back onto the dusty, shrouded cavern floor. "Oh... Are we there already?" He said, staring up at the ceiling, then lifting his head to peer at Thano. "Almost!" He replied, slapping his hands together to wipe off the excessive dust. "The nests are just a little up ahead, perched on top of a bunch of stalactites!"

Dalrus frowned, then blinked a couple of times. "Don't you mean stalagmites?"

He saw the elf freeze for a moment and sweat run down his temple.

"So, I think now is the time to pull out those bombs and make sure everything is in proper order before we go on!" He suddenly said, ignoring Dalrus' comment. Sitting down cross-legged, he put down his bag and began pulling out the explosives, which Dalrus, after a short shrug, proceeded to immitate. They had been carrying two bombs each, and Dalrus now was holding one on each of his hands.

The spiky metallic balls were each about the size of his head. On the small panel, he could make out four zeroes and three buttons of different collors underneath. "So, uh... How do we set these up?" He asked, looking up at Thano.

The elf simply raised a brow at him. "Did you forget the explanation already?" He teased, a mischievous grin stretching the corners of his mouth.

Leaning his head to the side, Dalrus shrugged. "Eh... If I am being honest, I wasn't entirely aware of my surroundings that moment we were given the manual on how to operate these."

Thano let out a chuckle. "I told you to get plenty of rest the night before, didn't I? Ah, well. It's not like you're expected to handle these yourself anyway. Just give them all to me, I'll set the timers now. Your job is only to help me carry and put these in position..."

For the following minutes, Dalrus simply waited as Thano pressed the same buttons tons of times, loud 'bleeps' echoing in the small cavern they were sitting on. Looking at the looming darkness behind them, Dalrus realized it wasn't in fact a cavern... More like a tunnel leading deep into the mountain. Looking around with more attention, he noticed what appeared to be claw and bite marks here and there. The tunnel was, in fact, excaveted. By whom or what, he couldn't hazard a guess. What he did guess was that there were probably more tunnels like that along the mountain, leading deeper inside and to what was most likely a safe spot for the harpies to build their nests.

"Big, ugly women with legs and wings like birds!" Thano had told him the previous night after Dalrus had inquired what the bloody hell a harpy was. "They can think and speak like us, but that doesn't really make them intelligent or diplomatic. Even gnolls can speak, after all. Their race is entirely female, and are quite vicious. They have been raiding our supply stocks and attacking sentries every now and then. So we are going to kindly ask them to leave. And after they say no, we are going to ask them again a little less kindly."

As he tapped his chin and waited, he began to grow more and more curious about the dark path ahead of them. The tunnel really was pitch black. Peering deeper into it, he could almost see it... The swirling forms of the deep Void...

 _'This is the fate that awaits you... Nothing but sheer, utter darkness... But this shadow pales in comparison for what is to come...'_

 _'Oh, NOW you decide to show up. But when I was bored out of my skull climbing a bleeding mountain, you're suddenly having a tea break!'_

 _'You waste your time in mundane tasks. Darkness will swallow you and all you know before you realize it is already too late...'_

 _'No, not having any of this. If you can't be there when I need you, I'm afraid this relationship is not going to work. I think we should see other people.'_

"Whew! I think I'm done." Thano's voice echoed from behind him. Snapping his neck as he looked around, Dalrus let out a soft painful moan as he got up from his cross-legged position and stood up, winding his arms to get rid of the pain and fatigue. "Crikey, about time! So, what's the next step?"

The bombs were neatly arranged on the floor in front of them in a half circle. They were now all showing on their surface the digits: 03:00. "Well, from what I understand... Now that they are armed, all we need to do is carry them to the place we want them to go off, press this big red button in the middle, then get out of there as fast as possible before we turn into red goop splattered against the mountain side! Pretty easy, eh?" And with that, the elf pulled a white cloth sack from his back and carefully placed two bombs inside. "Here, you carry this. I'll take the other two. Now, be silent, and follow me." Holding the other two bombs against his breast with his left arm, the elf began to make his way into the dark cave, followed closely by Dalrus, who held his bomb bag over his shoulder and back.

Darkness completely covered them both. Utter, pitch-blackness. Dalrus could barely make out the form of the senior rogue in front of him, but that was mostly due to his instincts and a bit of echolocation rather than sight. After about a minute of carefully stalking straight forward, he began to hear it. Screams, chirps, the flapping of wings... It was very faint, but the sound carried well in the tunnel they were in. He could tell the screams were vaguely feminine, but sounded more like salty old crones fighting over whose grandson was the most precious. Finally, they saw a faint light straight ahead. Crouching low, the two rogues continued to walk forward, until they reached the edge of their tunnel and saw what was in front of them.

It was a very large cave in the middle of the mountain. Looking along the walls, Dalrus could see several small tunnes such as that him and Thano had just taken. On the rocky floor about twenty meters below, enormous rock spires were jutting out upwards. Directly on the other side of the cave was a huge opening that showed the clear blue skies utside, from which harpies flew back and forth and the sunlight shined in, casting it's light over that cave on the mountainside and giving them plenty of vision of everything there. "Alright, there's our target." Thano whispered, pointing at the base of the stalagmites. "We blow up the big ones in strategic spots, and everything will come down with them." He pointed towards some of the stone spires that looked thicker and taller than most. "We need to place the explosives on a cartain spot to make them fall over the others and turn this place into a landslide site. All the nests will be destroyed, and the harpies won't be able to use this place anymore. Any questions?"

"Yeah... Where exactly should I place the bombs?" Dalrus narrowed his eyes, watching the bird women above. Now that he could get a good look at them, he realized just how horrendous they were. Their faces were long with huge curved noses, their hair pulled back in braids or ponytails behind their heads. Their feathers were mostly a dusty brown, with tribal marks and tattoos over the human parts of their bodies. Their breasts were covered by straps of leather crudely cut and torn out of the native creatures around the mountain. Their huge bird legs hung low under their bodies, ending in black razor-sharp curved talons. Some were resting on their nests, others were flying in and out of the cave like flies. As he watched, one holding a bloody carcass of an animal Dalrus couldn't identify flew in and landed on a stone slab to the side, where she began using her talons to slice it's flesh open. It was then that suddenly a second harpy dived in and tackled against her, screaming on top of her lungs as they both rolled on the floor, claws and feathers flying everywhere. "MINE! GIVE IT TO ME! MINE!" She was screaming, as the attacked harpy shouted back: "NO! I TAKE! IT'S MINE! NOT YOURS! RAAAAARGH!"

A shiver ran down his spine as the two harpies contiued to fight over the food, their high-pitched screams echoing in the large cavern. Thano then tapped on his shoulder and lifted his hand, all his fingers save one curled into a fist so he could point the precise spots Dalrus should lay the bombs. "There... And there. See? They are not too bright, so it shouldn't be difficult getting there unseen. Just keep your head low, and try not to make any noise. After you're done, meet me back here."

Nodding, Dalrus made sure the bomb bag was well strapped to his back and began to walk closer to the edge of their little tunnel. None of the harpies were even looking down, they were all either staring at the two fighters or attending to their own nests. "Lucky us, we already got a distraction..." He whispered as he leapt off their spot. Arms and legs spreading to help control his fall, he veered to the side and shadowstepped just before he hit the floor, landing on his hands and knees so he wouldn't transfer any shock to the bombs. Taking a deep breath and looking over his shoulder, he began to stalk amidts the thick, rocky foundations of the stalagmites. Still he could hear the loud screams of the two harpies fighting, their wing flaps and shrieks echoing in the cavern. _'Huh. Guess the hard part was making it up here.'_ He thought to himself. Barely took him a couple minutes to get to the first spot. By then, a third harpy had attempted to make it away with the meat the first one had gathered and the second was attempting to fight over. Upon seeing the new intruder, the first two suddenly joined forces to brutally kill her, then eat the meat together. He now understood why those things were unable to be diplomatic with. They might look human and even speak like one, but deep down they were controlled by their animal instincts.

"Alright, so, I put this here, and then..." He was muttering to himself, setting the bomb as Thano had instructed him. "I press this one..." He pushed his finger against the big red button right underneath the time counter. It flashed once, then displayed a message on the panel: "Three out of four bombs alocated. Activate the final one to start the counter."

 _'Oh. Well, that's handy.'_ He thought, getting up and making his way towards the final stalagmite. ' _Three out of four... Guess long ears already fnished on his side. Only one left now!'_ As he darted and weaved his way throught the rock bases, he heard a much louder scream that made his ears ring. Covering them with his palms, he winced and looked up. Descending from outside was a harpy far larger than all the others. This one was at least twice as big, her feathers white as snow almost completely covered in dirty brown dust. She landed on the stone slab where the two other harpies were still feasting, and let out yet another ear-splitting scream. Wisely, the two flew away immediately, leaving the larger one to enjoy the meat herself. Dalrus assumed she was some sort of matriarch, or an alpha of that group.

The arrival of the alpha harpy provided him with further cover so he could reach the last bomb spot, as the other harpies appeared to be avoiding her. _'Piece of cake!'_ Dalrus thought to himself as he set the final bomb down and pressed the button to trigger it. He was already up on his feet and turning his back to it when, from that tiny metallic spike-covered sphere, came a feminine shout to put even the alpha harpy's to shame:

"All bombs are now set! Explosion to go off in three minutes. Have a nice day!"

As the shrieking overhead began, along with the sound of dozens of wings flapping in unison and converging on the source of that noise, the only thing in Dalrus' mind was: _'Oh... Bugger._ '


	19. Chapter 19 - Rogue life

_**Chapter 19 - Rogue life**_

He thought the noise was bad enough earlier, but that was because he had never heard an angry harpy shrieking at him before.

"KILL! MAIM! STRIP THE FLESH FROM THE BONE! RWAAAAAAAARGH!" They squawked like parrots as they flew in circles above him, spiraling down towards his location. Dalrus ran for his life at full speed, hopping over the loose stones and darting back and forth between the huge stone pillars that rose from the ground. He had barely passed by two such when he heard a sharp whistle from above his head. Instinctively he ducked, and felt the air split as something very fast zoomed past his ear. Looking down, he noticed it was a feather that had sunk about two centimeters into the solid rock. _'Bloody hell, how can they fly with feathers like this?'_ He though, now having to worry with deadly darts raining from above on top of the flock of winged hags thirsty for his blood. More feathers were shot at him, the young rogue having to apply evasive tactics to avoid them; zig zagging, ducking, rolling, leaping backwards as he pretended to move forward, and so on. Lucky for him, the harpies were little more than beasts when it came to hunting; they were used to prey overtaken by panic and survival instinct, in other words, the instinct to sprint straight forward at maximum speed. And so, every single feather missed him completely, much to their throwers' anger.

The squawking intensified, and Dalrus heard the first harpy make a dive for him. He had to duck and barrel roll to the side in order to avoid those deadly talons aimed straight at his neck, then watched as their ugly owner landed on the floor where he had been moments ago, shrieking in anger. They were even uglier from up close, as Dalrus could now make out the details of their wrinkly skin - probably a result of being exposed to the sunlight for so long - as well as all the moles randomly placed along their thin faces. "DIIIIIIIIIE!" She screamed, lunging at him. The boy simply stepped on her head as she did so and used her body as a spring to jump forward and resume his dash. Soon, however, more of those hideous ladies began to join in, and before long he was being chased by about four of them on the gorund. _'Oh, this is bad._ ' He thought.

Lucky for him, it was quite obvious the harpies were not used to chasing prey on foot. Their steps were clumsy and overly wide, making them trip and slam against each other during their enraged srpint. Pretty soon, however, he would reach the stone wall leading up to the cave him and Thano had arranged to meet, and he would be a very clear target during the climb. So far the stalagmites were preventing the harpies from swarming down on him, but they were getting less dumb by the second, as they began to descend one by one rather than just pumelling each other in the air to decide who would get to him first. So, he hopped to the side and began climbing one of the pillars, an idea springing to his mind.

He watched as two more harpies tried to make a dive at him, only to smash against the stone piller directly behind the young rogue. More deadly feathers buried themselves on the hard stone dangerously close to his head and hands, but by then he was already halfway up the stalagmite. He looked over his shoulder, and saw that the big one was coming. The Alpha didn't look as stupid as the other birdbrains, as she landed on the big stone piller Dalrus was using as cover. Slowly she climbed down like a bat, her hateful eyes staring straight at Dalrus' face. "Thaaaaat's it, big girl... Just a little closer..." Dalrus whispered to himself, staring right back at her. Finally, the huge harpy let out a savage shriek and jumped at him, her wings spread wide to prevent his escape routs. It was then that Dalrus, much to her surprise, leapt straight forward to meet her. Just as it looked like they were going to collied, the boy shadowstepped, making his dissappear and reapear behind her back. Thinking quickly, he wrapped his arms around her neck and gave a sharp pull upwards. "COME ON, BIRD BRAIN! UP WE GO!" He shouted, to which the harpy screamed so loudly in anger that he almost felt his ears bleed from the noise. Surely enough, however, she began to beat her wings and fly up, trying to shake the rogue off her back.

Dalrus held on for dear life, his arms firmly wrapped around the Alpha harpy's neck and his legs trying to get as much adherence as possible around her torso. Fortunatelly, despite being smarter than the other harpies, that didn't mean she was too bright, either. Rather than landing on the ground to have the smaller ones pluck him off, the Alpha did exactly as he had hoped and started flying erratically through the air, screaming the whole time as she tried to make him fall.

"Hoooooh boy..." He grunted behind his teeth, wincing as he was shaken like a ragdoll on top of his ride. The Alpha took him high up on the cavern, then spiraled down towards the groung, only to recover and start going around in circles as scores of angry harpies tried to follow in her wake. Looking over his shoulder, Dalrus saw that while they all wanted a piece of him, they were all also still very afraid of the larger Alpha. That gave him an idea. His fingers curling around the harpy's white feathers, he plucked one free and took careful aim. Just as the harpy began another one of her dives downwards, Dalrus launched the feather against one of the closest harpies, stabbing her in the shoulder with it. The birdwoman let out a cry of pain and anger and, losing all reason, took a dive at him. Just as her talons were about to skewer him right where he lay, Dalrus jumped off the Alpha's back and began to free fall. He didn't see the damage his tactic had brought, but he most certainly heard it. The Alpha harpy let out a louder scream than any other before, and Dalrus heard her crash against the stone wall to the side. Looking around, there were still many more harpies flying about and trying to get to him. They were all surprised by the development of things, and their hesitation was the chance the boy needed. Shadowstepping once more middair, he landed on the back of one of the smaller harpies. "Alright birdbrain, forward!" He shouted in her ear, twisting her head between his arms until she was facing the tunnel entrance him and Thano had used to get there. He was ready to jump out of her and find a new carriage at any moment... But, for some reason, it looked as if the harpies had lost interest in him. Looking up, he understood why.

Bruised and injured, the harpy queen was now having to fend off a dozen attackers who sought to seize the opportunity to ellect a new alpha to their group. On top of that, more of the smaller ones were now fighting amongst themselves, shouting: "MY FOOD! NO, MINE! SCRAAAAAA!" Dalrus blinked at that. _'Huh... That worked better than expected.'_ Were his happy thoughts as he rode the harpy into the cave entrance, making her collapse heavily on the dusty ground right in front of a very surprised Thano, who stood with his hands on his hips a few paces deeper within the cave. "Well... I'd say you handled that situation pretty well!" The elf said, looking up at Dalrus with a raised brow.

Wiping the dust off his shirt, Dalrus stood up and kicked the harpy once on the stomach to make sure she wouldn't be getting up. "Eh, you know. All in a day's work." He casually said, looking up to inspect the mess he had provoked up there. "Thanks for the help, by the way." He sarcastically added.

The elf simply shrugged. "Well, I was going to try and pluck you out of that mess... But then you began dealing with things so well yourself, I thought it was more fun to just sit back and watch. You really took care of two birds with one stone, gotta say."

Dalrus lifted a brow at him. "Oh yeah? How so?"

A mischievous smirk spread on Thano's lips. "That alpha harpy was going to be a problem eventually, as the group could just reform someplace else after we took out this nest. But thanks to you, not only is their leader out, most of the lesser ones will be gone as well! Not bad for your first day at work, young one."

"And what about the bo-" Dalrus began to say when suddenly the sounds of the explosions began to come from behind him, making the boy almost lose balance and lift his arms to protect himself from the shockwaves. "Oh... Nevermind." He says, turning around to admire the results of their work.

Rock chunks and debris were flying everywhere, knocking a few harpies out of the air while most of them simply flew to a safe distance. The deafening noise of collapsing stone pillars echoed in the cave around them, and dust rose from the ground like a tidal wave. The stalagmites were toppling like dominoes, falling against each other and bringing the whole structures down. The harpies continued to shriek and scream as they flew in circles and watched their nests being crushed against the hard stone below. Still squawking and screaming at each other, they began to fly out of the cave and scatter in all directions - although some still decided a more constructive way of focusing their efforts was to start killing one another again.

The two rogues had to turn away and cover their mouths as the dust wave washed over them. The shockwave was nothing to bat an eye at either, and they ended up being forced to make their way back hurriedly. Soon they were back where they entered, and Dalrus inhaled the pure mountain air - as much as he could draw being so high up. "Whew. Well, that could have gone better. But all's well when ends well, eh?" He nonchalantly said, slapping dust off his black leather clothes.

Thano simply laughed. "Aye, I agree. And just before we left, Lyafra had simply told me to pick up your leftovers when you messed up." The elf laughed again. "Well, not that I intended to just leave you behind or anything. But you sure exceeded expectations, young Dalrus!"

With a shrug, Dalrus removed his shirt and began to wave it in the air to get more dust out of it. "By the way, we really should have a word with those bomb providers once we get back."

Thano caught himself in the middle of his laughter, then coughed a few times. "Ah... Yes. Definitely. Damn little miscreants, making such a loud bomb! Don't you worry, I'll make sure to personally go and give them a piece of our mind while you can go and rest!" Dalrus simply glared at the elf as Thano shot him a confident smile. "Oh. How noble of you." The youth sarcastically said. "But you know what? I insist I join you for the occasion. Maybe I'll give the dwarves a souvenir I picked up in there."

Ha could almost see the cold sweat running down Thano's brow. "Nonsense! I can only imagine how tired you must be after all this madness! It's fine, you can sleep! In fact, why not take the rest of the whole day off? Haha! Speaking of which, we should start climbing back down about now!" Still glaring at the elf, Dalrus had a very powerful suspicion that the message played after all bombs were set had in fact very little to do with the dwarves themselves. "Yeah. Let's do that, shall we?" He said, cracking his knuckles and soon following the elf down along the rocky wall. Fortunately, descending was a lot easier than climbing, as they simply jumped from one rocky platform or convenient footing spot to the next. Occasionally they would have to climb up or sideways to get within reach of a better vantage point, but overall, the first hour of their journey back went rather smoothly. The sun was already setting on the horizon when they finished maneuvering around the mountain and the Gilneas Brigade garrison came within sight. "Almost there... Don't fall behind now." Thano said, pushing his hands against his back until it cracked loudly on several spots. "Sure is easier without carrying those things around... Although I still harbored hopes we would be arriving before sunset... Best to pick up the pace, you don't want to have to climb this while it's dark."

Sunlight was nearly completely gone by the time the two rogues had finally reached the base of the mountain. Compared to climb, it was a walk in the park, as far as Dalrus was concerned. He doubted it had taken them even half the time it took them to reach the harpy's nests earlier. They approached a small party of dwarves from the Human Expedition awaiting for them there, about four in total and all armed with rifles over their shoulders. "Welcome back, lads." Said the one up in the front, as short and robust as all dwarves seemed to be, with a long black mustache melding into his beard underneath that long blue hood they all wore. "The entire camp heard the noise ye made up there! Nice work. Bet you two could use a pint or two after a long day's work, eh?"

"Oh, I won't say no to that! Come, young Dalrus, it is time for some much deserved relaxation." Thano immediately said, one hand smacking Dalrus on the back and helping guide the youth forward towards the dwarven sentries. "Best plan I heard all day... I got dust up to my earholes." Dalrus replied, his hand coming up to his black hair and trying to slap some of the dirt off. No easy task.

"So, were you waiting for us, master dwarf? I did not expect our humble team to receive an escort!" Thano casually said as the group began marching back towards the camp. "Aye lad, the commander told us be on the waiting for the party responsible for dealing with the harpy problem. Should have sent the storm riders if ye ask me, but why send a griffon when a couple lads can get the job done, eh? Suppose slamming those damn bird hags was too much of a waste of the storm hammers."

This picked Dalrus' interest. "Hold on... Griffons? Stormhammers? What's that all about?"

This made all the dwarves turn to launch strange looks at he boy. "Wot, have ye never heard of the storm riders, lad?" One of the dwarves asked. Dalrus shook his head. Thano then smiled and lifted his hands apoligetically. "You'll have to excuse the boy... He is from Gilneas, see. That human kingdom secluded from the rest of the world. It makes sense he would never heard of the courageous riders of the Wildhammer clan, no? Perhaps you could instruct him for a bit?"

Dalrus simply lifted his hand as he peered upwards. "That won't be necessary anymore." He said, the air suddenly filling with the sound of mighty wings beating. And then, the owner of those wings landed on the ground right before the group.

Dalrus had seen griffons before, of course. No human child could grow up not hearing of those legendary beasts, with the body of a lion and the head and wings of a mighty eagle. But seeing one up close like this was something else entirely... Especially because of the thick armor plates this one wore. The beast was not as big as a horse, curiously, but it was certainly very wide and undoubtedly powerful. It's head sported long brown feathers going all the way down to it's neck, and instead of a mouth it had a cruel-looking yellow beak. Mounted on it's back was a dwarf, and strapped to his waist was what Dalrus assumed was the stormhammer. While it mostly looked like a regular battle hammer, Dalrus could see crackling electricity emanating from the handle or around the slab of iron at the tip every now and then. His curiosity regarding the nomenclature of that weapon was instantly sated.

Without even getting off his ride, the dwarf lifted his protective goggles and said in a serious tone: "We must report to the commander immediately. The orcs were seen moving towards one of the outposts. We believe it's the Warsong clan. Prepare for an attack!" And with that, the griffon flexed it's thick muscular legs, and, with a mighty wing beat, leapt high into the air and flew off in the distance. "Och, that's bad... Alright lads, double time! That pint will have ta wait!" The dwarven commander said, and suddenly they were all running back to the camp, Dalrus and Thanos quickly following them after exchanging a meaningful glance. "Never a moment's rest, huh?" Dalrus said, trying to fend off the exhaustion brought by all the exercise performed that day. "That's a rogue's life for you, young one. You'll get used to it." Thano replied... But this time, Dalrus couldn't help but notice... The elven rogue wasn't smiling.

 _'Rogue's life, eh? I wonder if my uncle had to deal with this kind of crap... Maybe that's why he was so grumpy all the time.'_ Dalrus pondered as they re-entered the camp of the Gilneas Brigade. The alarm was sounding around them, and people were scurrying left and right as orders were shouted and weapons were passed from hand to hand. "Come, young one. We must report to the commander at once."

"Oh, right... _The commander._ " Dalrus had almost forgotten about the grumpy elf responsible for the intelligence operations in the Gilneas Brigade. He took in a deep breath and readied himself for the worst.

It took them little time to reach their tent, and when they did, Dalrus noticed the place was a bit fuller than usual. Commander Jaina was there, as well as the Gilnean captain Victor and the dwarven thane whose name Dalrus just could not remember for the life of him. Captain Lyafra was there, of course, but so were a rugged looking woman and a dwarf whose scruffy face was covered in scars, both of them clad in tattered brown robes. They appeared to be just as exhausted as Dalrus and Thano were. "...With their leader, Grommash Hellscream at the front." Lyafra was saying, bent over the planning table with her hands squeezed the edges in clear anxiety. "They also seem to have tamed some of the wild beasts, as worg riders were seen along with the kodos. Fending the Warsong would be no problem, but if this new caravan joins them... I fear we might not be able to resist the orcs and the tauren together. And on top of that, I heard reports there are trolls with them as well, Light knows where they came from."

"Blast them, what are they doing here? Why did they chase us all the way from the Eastern Kingdoms? Couldn't the damn mongrels have died fighting the Scourge for us?" Captain Victor sighed and rubbed his temple with his gloved hand. "As if the undead and the demons weren't bad enough, now we must deal with the horde, too... And it appears their numbers are only increasing. What are we to do, commander Jaina?" And with that, everyone turned to face the young beautiful sorceress. Dalrus still had trouble accepting she was the one who called the shots in that place.

Her hood was pulled back now, with her long, silken blonde hair falling over her shoulder. "I had hoped we would be able to leave some people behind, away from all this fighting... But it appears fate conspires against us. We have no choice. Whatever this 'Oracle' may be, it is our only hope of fighting the Burning Legion in this land. Offer token resistence to the orcs, but we must go deeper into the mountains, even if it means losing our Garrisons. We should be able to build better outposts as we go... But I would prefer if we avoided the forests for now. There's still much we do not know about this place."

"Wait a moment, you mean we are to retreat? Why not end those mongrels now as we have the chance?" The dwarven thane suddenly spoke up, his fists resting on his hips. Dalrus noticed the man was standing on a box at the edge of the table. "We didn't come here ta run from our problems, ye said this would be the place where we'd fight the final battle!"

"Yes, Mountain King, but not against the orcs." Jaina said, her hand gripping her staff more tightly. "At all costs, I would prefer if we avoided fighting them... Our true enemy is the Undead Scourge, and the Burning Legion. It's... Unfortunate... That we must deal with this war while another one continues from a different side... But as the new Alliance, it is our duty to prevail this challenge and help rebuild our land. For our future... We must press on and not look back."

It was clear nobody seemed very happy with the mage's plan... But no one challenged it either. Dalrus was impressed. She was quite eloquent. "Let's wait a moment before we take our turn, young Dalrus. Watch and learn for now." Thano whispered, his hands resting on Dalrus' shoulders and pulling him off to the side where Hanton was standing along with the woman and the male dwarf. Dalrus saw inquisitive looks launched towards him, but no one said a thing as they were all focused on the war meeting.

For what appeared to last an eternity, the people of importance there continued to relay yawn-inducing information as well as discuss supplies and their travelling route. Dalrus eventually began to tune out, half sleeping as he simply stood there, staring blankly into space, until, suddenly, he felt a hand squeezing his shoulder and he snapped back to attention. "What?" He said, blinking and looking up. Thano had his hand on Dalrus' shoulder again, and was looking at him... As were all in the room. "Uh... Pardon, could you say that again?" The young rogue said as he nervously scratched his head.

Lyafra was visibly exhasperated. "Lady Jaina here asked if the harpy business has been dealt with. We cannot afford to move our people through the canyons if we need to watch out for attacks from above. And I said the two of you were responsible for dealing with it. I take it by your presence that you must have succeeded on your mission, yes?" The elf said, those cold, bright green eyes peering straight into his soul.

"Absolutely!" Thano was fast to speak before Dalrus could finish drawing his breath. "The boy shows promise, handled the situation quite well, I would say. Even went as far as dealing with their leader, imagine that. I don't think the harpies will be making any meaningful attacks on us now that they are scattered and disorganised. The worst we can expect is a stray or two whose hunger gets the best over their brains."

"Some good news, at least. Very well, then if that is the case, we can afford to leave more Griffon Riders behind, which means our defenses on the valley will be..." And once more, Dalrus began to tune out again. He wondered how rude it would be if he decided to excuse himself and collapse over one of the nets behind them.

And then, finally, they were leaving. Dalrus, who had almost fallen asleep standing, suddenly perked up as people started to move around him towards the exit. "Wha?" He almost said out loud, but managed to stop himself short. He watched as one by one the leaders of the Human Expedition left the tent... Until, suddenly, he felt a much gentler touch on his shoulder, and looking up, he met the gaze of the young sorceress responsible for leading them in this expedition on the unknown. "I'm sorry for bothering you, but... You're from Gilneas, yes? You were there on the day when Arugal... Well. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

Dalrus blinked again, wondering if he had really fallen asleep and was now dreaming. Lady Proudmoore's face reminded him of his teacher back in Gilneas... The one who turned out to be an etherial being from another dark dimension. "You mean the day where a horde of blood thirsty beasts ate the horde of blood thirsty zombies trying to eat us? Yeah, I was there. Had front line seats for it, too."

He saw the girl hesitate for a moment, her brows lifting on her head. And almost instantly after he felt Lyafra's hand over the collar of his shirt pulling him back. "I am very sorry about this, Lady Proudmoore. This infant still has a runny mouth, one I have yet to break manners into." The elf was saying, the grip on Dalrus' clothes strong as iron.

"N-no, no, it's alright, Lyafra. I, ah... I was just not expecting..." She suddenly cleared her throat and perked up. "It's fine, there's no need for punishment. Dalrus, was it?" Gripping her staff with both hands for support as she peered down at him, Dalrus couldn't help but notice some sadness behind the sorceress' eyes. "I must help organizing our troops, but... If you would come to my tent later tonight, after our meals... There is something I would discuss with you. That is, if your captain doesn't have any more important business ready...?" Lyafra was already shaking her head. "None. He's all yours." And with that, the pressure on his collar was no more, and Dalrus stumbled forward rubbing his neck. "Right... Sure, no problem. I'll just, ah... If you don't mind, I had a really long day, so..." Dalrus gestured towards the nets with his thumb. "Oh, of course! Yes... As I said, it will be much later, so take your rest. Excuse me." And with that, the mage left the tent as well, leaving only the rogues in there.

Once they were alone, Captain Lyafra sighed and ran her hand over her forehead. "I half expected you to not come back." She said, not even bothering to look down at Dalrus. "Gee, sorry to disappoint, lady captain sir. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be getting some rest now. If you need me, feel free to knock." Following the elf's leave, he did not bother looking at her as he spoke, preferring to turn around and make a straight line to the nets instead. He didn't even bother taking off his clothes as he threw himself into one, pulled his hood over his eyes and finally allowed exhaustion to take the best of him, darkness completely swallowing his vision and his thoughts. It was only too late he realized his mistake. _"Oh, sh-"_


	20. Chapter 20 - War never ends

_**Chapter 20 - War never ends**_

"I thought I told you we were on a break!"

Dalrus' protesting shout felt on deaf ears... If whatever that thing threatening to swallow him whole even had ears. This one time he could have sworn he saw a figure of what appeared to be a gigantic octopus covered in mouths. Literally. Wide mouths with needle like fangs all over the surface of it's body, even it's eyes. But he had seen crazier things whenever his mind drifted towards the Void like that.

 _'How long do you intend to struggle? You merely postpone the inevitable. Soon enough, you will be engulfed. Consumed. You... Will be ours.'_

Dalrus was hanging upside down... Wasn't he? Time and space were very abstract concepts in his void-fueled nightmares. "WOULD YOU SOD OFF ALREADY? THIS ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE!" He screamed as he felt a thousand tendrils sliding over his skin, pulling him in every direction and threatening to tear him apart.

 _'Foolish child... Every day that passes, it comes closer... Soon... You will lose him. And then you will be ours.'_

"I SAID SOD OFF!" He screamed in his mind, his eyes snapping shut as he struggled and trashed...

...And then he let out a loud gasp as he fell heavily on the floor below the net he had been sleeping on.

"Whu...?" He opened his eyes and looked around. Dalrus was still within the tent of the espionage and information gathering unit of the Gilneas Brigade. Hanton was looking down at him from the centar table with a raised brow, as were the rugged looking dwarf and the woman who Dalrus had seen earlier. "Oh... Bad dream." He muttered as he rubbed the back of his head. "How long was I out?"

"Not long." Hanton informed. "Just a couple hours. I was actually about to wake you up. I think it would be a fine enough time to go see Lady Jaina, since she appeared to have something to speak with you about."

"Oh... Right. That." Dalrus shivered and stood up, his sore muscles screaming in protest. He then shifted his eyes back to the woman and the dwarf who had been silently staring him this entire time. "Oh, pardon my rudeness. I'm Dalrus Plaguefang, the newest addition to your team. You two must be Hilda and Darthardt, yes?" The young rogue spoke, trying to offer what his father used to call 'the first impression smile'.

They did not seem too amused by it. Now that he could afford to inspect them more closely, Dalrus realized that was the least hairy dwarf he had ever seen in his life. His mustache was so small it wasn't even jutting out the sides of his face, nor was it hanging past his chin. And his beard was so trimmed it looked more like the usual fit most humans chose to sport, barely a few inches off his jaw. It was also black in colour. His nose was about as wide and long as most dwarves', and, as Dalrus had noted earlier, his face was practically covered in scars. "Aye, Hanton was telling us about it. Never in me years have I seen a green lad like ye in this business. But since ye already proved yerself, and considering we're at war, I suppose beggars can't be choosers. We are short handed enough as is." The dwarf was holding a large smoking pipe in his lips, and Dalrus saw the herb glow red as Darthardt took in a deep breath and exhaled the smoke through the corners of his mouth.

The woman, Hilda, remained quiet as a stone as she stroked her chin and continued to stare at Dalrus as if she were appraising his very soul. She kind of reminded the boy of the harpies he had faced earlier that day. Her face was long and wrinkly, and her hair was tinged with white. "Well, uh... Thanks. And you must be Hilda... Right?" Dalrus shot an inquisitive glance towards Hanton, who simply smiled enigmatically.

"Don't mind her, she don't speak much, lad. She's more a watcher than a speaker, if you know what I mean." Darthardt said with a raspy little chuckle. The dwarf's words were all heavy and grainy sounding, as if Dalrus needed any more indication he was a heavy smoker. "I... See. Well, then... Lovely meeting you all, but... I guess I better get going, eh?" And with that, Dalrus began to make his way towards the exit... When suddenly what felt like an iron claw squeezed his wrist, keeping him in place. Turning around in surprise, he saw Hilda there, her face inches away from his while her fingers squeezed his arm with a grip as firm as stone. "Uh... Can I... Help you?" He said, trying to lean away from her.

"Touched." She whispered, her deep green eyes wide as gold coins as their gaze was fixated on Dalrus'. "It is too late for you." A wicked green seemed to stretch the corners of her dry mouth, and she releazed her grip on him, at which point Dalrus took a step back, rubbing his wrist. "I... What? What's that supposed to mean?"

Dalrus saw Hanton and Darthardt swap meaningful glances. "Oy, lad... Ye best watch yer back. Hilda, she... Well. She senses things. She had a run in with one of them orcish warlocks long ago... Never been the same since." Hanton nodded, his brows furrowing as he peered down at Dalrus. "None of the things she say are very clear... Or... Sensical, for that matter. I wouldn't worry too much, if I were you... I doubt it's something worth mulling over right now. Best to focus on what's important... Like that meeting with Lady Jaina. She's probably waiting for you as we speak." And with that, all the rogues turned their backs on young Dalrus, who was simply left there baffled. "All... Right... Then..." He slowly said as he backwalked towards the hut's exit, wary of any new lunges for his arm. He was not used to a person being quicker than him, and it was certainly not a pleasant experience.

His way outside the hut, however, went without any incident, and once outside, he could turn around and take in a deep breath before marching towards the keep at the center of the camp, where he presumed Lady Jaina's chambers would be.

Everyone was on high alert. It would seem the impending orcish threat had the entire camp moving about like an anthill, despite the warning having been issued hours earlier. It was a wonder how Dalrus had even managed to sleep at all through all that noise. The moon was high on the sky, but something about it looked different. It was as if, ever since arriving on Kalimdor, the moon appeared to have grown... Bigger? Brighter? Like it simply had a stronger presence here.

Thanks to that, the many torches illuminating the camp had little more work to do. Everyone could see quite clearly, which made carrying cannons, armour, weapons, supplies or simply restationing themselves quite easy. It was like the siege of Gilneas all over again... Only this time, Dalrus supposed, they lacked the advantage of a gigantic stone wall loaded with cannons in a narrow pass. Also, their enemies were supposedly smarter than the average zombie. Dalrus had never met an Orc before, but like every Azerothian, he had heard tales of the brute race. Big, strong, savage, bloodthirsty, they showed no mercy and slaughtered all in their path. He really was in no rush to meet one anytime soon.

Eventually, he reached the keep. After asking about Lady Jaina's whereabouts, he was informed that the young mage had a tent of her own mounted on the edge of the camp. Dalrus figured that made sense, since it would be impossible for anyone to get some rest in the middle of all that movement... Not to mention their leader would probably have some more privileges. And so he set off for the place he had been pointed at, but on his way there, he happened to see Felrus standing guard over the edge of a barricade, with his helm pulled down over his head. Dalrus only recognized his brother thanks to that comically stiff way he stood watch as all guards around him would either shift nervously or just lean back against the railing and yawn of boredom.

Taking a small detour, Dalrus silently made his way towards Felrus, who, of course, had not noticed his approach. With absolutely no sound, Dalrus tapped his brother on his left shoulder before hopping over to his right side, trying to hold back a giggle. Sartled, Felrus suddenly turned over that side, his hand reaching down for his sword as his eyes darted back and forth, searching for the source of that touch while Dalrus rapidly ducked behind his brother, thus remaining on his blind spot. Confused, Felrus looked up, and Dalrus took this opportunity to slide around his brother's legs to stand right in front of him. "Hey, bro." Dalrus said, which once more startled Felrus, making him stumble back against the railing. "Light be damned, Dalrus, I told you never to do that!" The young warrior gasped, his hand over his chest as he heaved for air. "You nearly almost had my heart jump out of my mouth!"

Dalrus simply waved his hands. "Don't be such a drama queen. Just wanted to see if you were quick on your wits and ready for the orcs!"

As always, his brother appeared to take his words seriously. "I see... I'm ashamed to say I was caught off guard, then. If you were an orcish assassin, I'd be dead already... I had best be more vigilant, then." He then stood up properly and sheathed his sword. "I'm happy to see you're back safe from your mission. How did it go? The entire camp could hear the noise from the mountain."

Dalrus laced his fingers together before his chest and stretched his arms out, which in turn made all his digits crack loudly. "As if you need even ask. It was no problem at all, just a bunch of bird brains buried under rock along with their nests. Harpies won't be an issue to us anymore."

Felrus simply furrowed his brows. "What the bloody hell is a harpy?"

Before Dalrus could respond, a loud, booming voice rang from the watchpost to their right. "PLAGUEFANG! CHANGE SHIFTS!" And his brother immediately assumed a salute position. "Sorry Dal, we'll talk later. I go up the watch tower now." And with that, he was off. Dalrus shook his head. How could anyone stand spending all night long simply peering over the orizon and waiting for something to happen was beyound him.

Figuring he had wasted enough time by now, he decided to resume his march towards Lady Jaina's tent. There were a few heavily armored knights there standing guard, all of them mounted on enormous warhorses with as much armour as their riders. Dalrus considered sneaking past them just for the fun of it, but he figured it would be easier to just walk in through the front. Clearing his throat, he stepped up to the closest one. "Good evening! I'm Dalrus. Lady Jaina asked me to meet her here."

The man peered down at the boy from atop his steed, only his eyes visible through his thick iron helm. "And what is a child like you doing in this war camp, boy? Are babies and greenhorns all Gilneas was willing to part with for this war?"

Dalrus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Geez mate, I had never heard that one before. I thought Lady Jaina's guard was chosen only by their battle prowess, but now I see your wit played a vital role in the selection, too. If you're done sharing your wisdom with me, can I pass? Pretty sure she's waiting for me."

Dalrus saw the other knights exchange some glances as the one before him tugged on his horse's reins a bit, which made the beast stomp the ground and trot a little closer to the boy. "Quite the tongue you got there, boy. Figures talking their way out of situations and cowering behind walls would be all you Gilneans are good for."

Closing his eyes, the young rogue took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Yes, another fine example of originality and tongue lashing. You must be guard of the month if all you do is ignore people's questions and insult them. I'm sure whoever paid for you to be in this spot must be very proud of your work."

The man's eyes narrowed with rage, and Dalrus saw him reach for his sword as the other knights quickly began to approach them. ' _Well, isn't this just lovely...'_ Dalrus thought with a mental sigh as he crouched down and reached for his daggers.

"Enough!" Suddenly, Jaina's voice cut through the air, and everyone froze where they were. The mage was right behind Dalrus, and had a basket under one arm, held close to her chest. "Captain, I thought I had told you what to do when this boy arrived. And I have had enough complaints about you antagonizing the Gilneans."

Grunting, the knight let go of his sword's handle and pulled on his reins once more, making his horse backstep a few paces. "My apologies, my lady. I merely wanted to ascertain his identity. At this time of high alert, it would not do if a craven assassin were to infiltrate your chambers."

Jaina furrowed her brows. "I will be fine, captain. I think I can take care of myself well enough, thank you. Please, return to your post and warn me immediately if anyone else approach." She then turned to Dalrus, who had been silently watching this whole exchange. "Mister Plaguefang... Please, come with me."

To that, the young rogue simply smiled. "Call me Dalrus." He hadn't taken three steps when he saw the knight bring his sword down in front of the youth. "Hold on a moment." Said the knight. "You're not going anywhere before you leave these toys behind, boy. Someone could get hurt if you trip and fall with those." His eyes were fixated on Dalrus' daggers, both dangling from either side of his belt.

"It is alright, captain. I trust he will not use them on me. There's no need for this." Jaina chimed in, launching a glare towards the heavily armored knight. "Well, you heard the lady! Nice talking to you, captain. I hope we get to share pleasantries again soon." With a smug grin, Dalrus pushed the man's sword aside and strutted onwards, following the beautiful mage inside of her tent as the knight fumed behind him.

"This way, please." Jaina said, holding the tent's entrance open for him. "Oh, thank you." Dalrus said, then stepped inside. Then his jaw dropped, and his eyes went wide.

From outside, Jaina's tent appeared to be even smaller than the one his group was stationed. But on the inside, it was as large Gilneas' city hall. Easily, a few dozens of people could fit in there. There were bookshelves adorning every wall - stone walls, to his bafflement - and they were all filled with hundreds of books, and some were actually flying through the air, flapping their covers as if they were wings. Magical glowing runes were shimmering all over the place, and in the ceiling high above was a mirror of the night sky... Or so it seemed at a first glance, but there were glowing lines connecting the stars together, making figures of men and strange creatures in the sky.

"Please, take a seat... And, ah, sorry for the mess." Jaina was saying as she walked past him and approached a table close to the center of the room. Looking down, Dalrus saw the floor was completely covered in ragged old book pages, all of them completely covered in ancient scribbling. There was even a hearth next to the table where Jaina was setting the basket on, and with a wave of her hand, a pair of chairs materialized and set themselves around the fine wood. "Everything has been rather... Chaotic since we got here. I barely have any time to organize, or... Just... Lay down and rest." She let out a long, tired sigh, and dropped her staff against the table next to her.

After a moment of brief hesitation, the lad strutted forward, utterly mesmerized by that incredible display of magic. Not that he was any novice to the concept, of course. He had seen mages before, be it for destructiva incantations like he saw during the Siege of Gilneas, or for more mundane affairs like giving brooms life and making them sweep by themselves. Never anything in this level, of course. This entire accomodation was reeking of magic, and Dalrus felt himself more than a bit intoxicated by that raw power filling the air. He almost tripped over the chair Jaina was offering him, so distracted he was by the flying books above. "Oh, it's... Don't worry about it." He said in a daze, his eyes glued to the constant motion and flapping book covers.

"Would you like some tea?" The young mage's voice snapped him back to reality, and when he looked down, his jaw dropped. A tea pot was actively hopping over the table in his direction, it's steaming contents spilling over it's edge and staining the wood with every little wobble. "Uh... Yeah, sure. I'd love some." He managed to blurt out as the pot bent over a cup he hadn't even noticed was laying right under his chin and poured some steaming pink liquid for him to enjoy. He brought it up to his lips and blew over it's shimmering surface for a moment beefore taking a sip. It was like fireworks were dancing around his mouth, making his tongue and cheeks tingle as he swallowed. "Exotic!" He happily said, setting the cup down over the table once more.

Jaina simply smiled, then took a sip of her own cup, her legs crossed as she leaned back on her seat. "Yes, I managed to salvage some from the ruins of Dalaran, after... Well, I'm sure you know the story." Her expression grew a little more somber, and she took another sip. "I'm sorry for calling you so late, you must be exhausted after your mission... But I was happy to hear it went so well, even with you being so young. Normally, I would be against you joining our troops, but..." She let out a long, tired sigh, and set her cup down. "I'm afraid at this point, we really need all the help we can get... Oh! Excuse me, I... I forgot. Ahem." She straightened her back, and appeared to be trying to look a bit more... Imposing, perhaps? Comanding? Respectable? "I'm Jaina Proudmoore, as you probably... Already know. I'm the leader of the Human Expediton here, in Kalimdor. And I would like to thank you for coming to see me tonight, Dalrus."

He had to force himself not to laugh and how clearly unfomtortable the woman was, attempting to look like a mighty general of some sort, especially with how forced her more formal tone was. "The pleasure is all mine, milady. Truth be told, waking up from that nap was no issue." ' _And hopefully it never will be,'_ he thought. "So, to what do I owe you the honor of your summons? I take it was more than my roguish charms?" He flashed her an exaggeratedly cocky smile after that.

It took all his self control not to burst out laughing when the young mage's mouth hung slightly open, her eyes wide as she was very clearly at a loss of words. Taking another sip from his cup, Dalrus wiped his chin with his thumb and degraded that smile to a more friendly one. "Relax, I'm just kidding. I know I'm a tad too young for you. I assume it's got to do what Arugal, eh?"

And once more, he watched as the woman was at a loss of words, but for a different reason this time. She coughed, one hand covering her mouth, and quickly recomposed herself. "Y-yes, that... That is correct. You have a very... Sharp mind, Dalrus. I did not mean to interrogate you back then, as you were clearly still taxed. And... Well. I imagine it must be a touchy subject for any Gilnean... Of course, the good Captain has already relayed all the information to me. But I would like to hear it from..." She shifted a little in her seat. "Someone not so... Military experienced, so to say."

"You mean you'd like to hear a child's point of view on the whole thing?" He inquired, his smile now shifting into an amused grin as he laid one elbow on the table and rested his cheek upon his closed fist. "You relly don't need to beat around the bush with me, Lady Jaina. I'm more thick skinned than I look."

Jaina blinked a few times. "I... I apologize. I'm just... Trying to appear more, ah... Formal, since I've been dealing with so many figures of authority lately. I mean, It's not my first time meeting such people, but... I... I just never had to lead them myself, is all." She sighed, then rubbed her forehead, appearing very tired. "I... I never thought having to lead my people would be so... Burdensome. All I want is to take them to safety, and end the Scouorge so we can all live happily... But I fear I may have made a wrong turn at some point, a mistake... You of all would know, even the members of the Kirin Tor can make mistakes... Terrible ones."

After taking another sip from his cup, he sighed with delight and began to idly tap the table with his free fingers, thinking _'What the bloody hell is a Kirin Tor?',_ then said: "Well, I dare say so far you've been doing a stellar job compared to the lunatic who summoned beastmen from another dimension. But in the end, that turned out to do more good than harm. We sure lost a lot less people than we would have if the undead had broken through."

It felt as if everything the boy said was completely unexpected for the mage, as each time he spoke she would stare at him with that curious expression. "That... Is a very mature way to look at things. I suppose it was the lesser of two evils... But still, there will be repercussions to it. And I fear to make a similar mistake... Thinking that, maybe, my calls will lead to only more suffering ahead..."

Dalrus simply shrugged at that. "Could be. It's not impossible for you to have done exactly that. How could we possibly know?" He then finished pouring the rest of the tea cup's contents down his gullet. "We are at war. People will die, whether we like it or not. That's what sucks so much about it. One thing I can say with absolute certainty is that taking your people out of Lordaeron and bringing them here was without a doubt the right choice. I can't say I enjoy the notion of abandoning our home to defend someplace else, but... Those lands are pretty much lost. Everything has been happening way too fast. We need a place where we can calm down and think about what to do next. And I think here is that place. The demons, the undead and whatever else came to doom our world seem to be bent on hunting us down... But at least, now, it's not going to be out of nowhere. Now, we can get ready, and push them back when that wave comes to wash us off."

He saw the woman's thin fingers squeezing the edges of her dress as she listened to him, unblinking. And then, to his surprised, he saw her lower her face and wipe what appeared to be a tear forming on the corner of her eye. "Thank you, Dalrus, I... It really means a lot to hear this. I've been riddled with doubt lately... But your words have brought me comfort. It was amazing to hear one so young, who had every right to be nothing more than a victim to this war, speak about such things in that light... Perhaps it is a sign of how sad these times had become. A youth shouldn't need to accept the tragedy of war, nor should he be risking his life like this..."

The young rogue leaned back on his seat, hands crossed over his lap as he peered up at the magical sky ceiling above. "Maybe you're right. War is a very messed up ordeal. But... You know. The whole point to fight in it is so other people don't have to. It really warms me up to think that I'm doing this so I can get back home one day, and someone else doesn't need to take my place. All I ever wanted in life was to... Well, just... Live. Wake up, fool around in the city, skip my lessons whenever I can, flirt with the girls at the inn, eat fine food, drink fine beverages, maybe one day explore amazing new sights... But these days, all we can afford to worry about is our survival. I just want to help make a world where a person's biggest concern is what they are having for dinner, not if a horde of monstrosities is gonna bring down their walls and kill their family."

At last, a genuine smile of joy was stretching Jaina's lips and lifting her cheeks. "And a fine aspiration that is... Me, all I wanted was to become a mage under my master, and try to help the world with my magic. I suppose... Now we are both fighting for our dreams. Despite our... Losses along the way..." For a moment, her eyes grew distant, and Dalrus wondered if she was thinking of a loved someone she had lost in this war. "All we can do is to keep facing forward. It's pointless to wonder about what could have been... We can only decide what shall be."

Shooting her a playful wink, Dalrus said: "That's the spirit. And if you ever think you made a wrong choice along your way... Try and think about how many more people would be dead if you hadn't made that choice. This may not be the best route to travel on, but it sure as hell ain't the worst. We just gotta keep our chins up and survive these adversities."

Nodding, Jaina made a little motion with her hand, and the empty cups vanished in a pink swirling mist. "You are absolutely right. Thank you, Dalrus. Your words were most comforting. I... Needed them more than I realized. But I'm afraid that was not why I called you here tonight..."

"Ah." He leaned even further back on his chair, causing the front legs to leave the ground and making the young rogue balance his weight constantly so he wouldn't fall. "I take it has something to do with your charming bodyguard outside, then?"

"Yes... And I am very sorry about his behavior. Most people are very... Distrustful... Of Gilneas, after your king decided to leave the Alliance an build his wall." With a new sigh, Jaina began to fiddle with a little fold on her dress. "I wanted to express my personal apologies regarding this. It is why I decided to assign your platoon to this garrison, which had no other humans in it... And to rename it the Gilneas Brigade. I wish to restore ties with Gilneas... Surely, King Greymane must realize by now that if we are vanquish this threat, we must stand together, as one..."

"Aye, old Greymane is a bit of a hard head." Dalrus casually said as he scratched behind his right ear with his left hand. "Stubborn old man is gonna stay behind that wall until it falls down over him. But you know what? I really can't say I blame him. It's been working so far... He's just overzealous for his people. But he really should realize playing defensive won't work forever... Not against an enemy whose only purpose isn't to take land or resources, but someone who just actively wants to kill everyone just for the sake of it."

"Indeed... I'm glad you think that way as well. Dalaran... Had made the same mistake." She waved one hand, and a flying book came down beating it's covers to land on the table in front of them. From it's open pages burst out a miniature version of the mage city of Dalaran, with it's ivory towers and gorgeous crystals of power. "We thought ourselves... Untouchable. Above all else. But then, not only was the city ransacked by the undead... It was also completely destroyed by the demonic lord of the Burning Legion. I know better than anyone the price of that hubris... So I'd like to do my best so that not only the people of Gilneas, but all residents of the Eastern Kingdoms can live without fear."

"Cheers to that, love." Dalrus said without really thinking. He then realized how he had just addressed the supreme commander of this entire effort and almost fell of his chair, but managed to balance himself so it would fall forward instead. "I-I mean, ah... Indeed! A noble goal for all of us! Milady!" He tried to offer a polite smile, but this time it was Jaina who was struggling not to laugh. "It is fine." She said. "Thank you once more, Dalrus. I appreciate your honesty. This has been a most enlightening chat. But... I'm afraid I must cut our conversation short now. I have... A lot to do, and I'm sure you need more rest."

 _'Oh gods, please, no.'_ "Well, I'd be lying if I said proper rest would be unwelcome. Thanks for having me, milady. I'd love to chat you up again anytime our duties allow." And with that, he stood up, as did she. After a corteous farewells, he was on his way back to the tent where Lyafra would no doubt be ready to give him another assignment along with a scowl.

As he walked, he couldn't help but ponder. First, a war against the orcs. Then... Orcs again, and a crazy dragon. Then, undead. After that, demons. And now the orcs were about to attack them once more. "Guess war never changes." He whispered to himself as he placed his hands on his pockets and peered up at that beautiful night sky with it's abnormally powerful moonlight, wondering if the conflicts in this world would ever truly end.


	21. Chapter 21 - Cry of the Warsong

_**Chapter 21 - Cry of the Warsong**_

Dalrus had heard of orcs before, of course. Who hadn't? Their sudden appearance through the dark portal, the subsequent invasion on Azeroth, and even the assassination of the king of Stormwind had hit the entirety of the Eastern Kingdoms like a hammer to the gut... Which is Ironic, considering their leader called himself Orgrim Doomhammer. Dalrus had heard at one point the orc Warchief had been captured, but somehow he escaped and war went on once more, this time, apparently, due to the machinations of a crazy black dragon with lava leaking off his back and fire from his wings. Also something about a warlock and demons. In hindsight, that was probably their first warning.

He had always imagined the descriptions of the orcs were overly exaggerated; hulking brutes to match even ogres in size and strength, with glowing red eyes and a neverending thirst for blood and carnage. But, Dalrus figured, they couldn't be much different from humans, elves or dwarves, right? Just some poor, desperate saps who had ran out of land to live on and were now fighting to take it from other people. Despite how vilanized they were, he could kind of understand what would drive someone to invade another land and try to seize their resources.

His viewpoint was drastically changed when he finally saw one with his own eyes the day after his chat with Lady Proudmoore. Apparently, the orcs had been relentless in their march and treaded all night long straight towards their camp, despite having been seen from kilometers away. This did not prevent their leader to climb up to a hill and lift the most unique looking axe Dalrus had ever seen in his life, then bellow out a warcry that could be heard by nearly every single person in the garrison before odering his troops to charge. Orcs mounted on gigantic wolves as if they were horses raced forward, swords and axes high in the air as they echoed their leader's challenged to meet the Gilneas Brigade.

"That." Captian Lyafra had said earlier. "Is Grommash Hellscream, leader of the Warsong clan. They have always been a band of trouble makers, one of the few orc clans who evaded capture after the end of the second war against the Horde. Even by orc standards, he has always been more beast than anything else. Ravenous, thirsting for blood, and killing for pure pleasure. I wouldn't be surprised if this attack were just for their sheer pleasure of battle."

Dalrus had been ordered to remain behind the walls of the garrison and not to engange directly, much like back during the Siege of Gilneas. "I don't doubt your talent, young Dalrus, but today, it's not a matter of talent, but experiece. Trust me, even if you're a long time veteran, you never want to go toe to toe with an orc." Thano had told him before leaving with the rest of the group to gather intelligence and try to hinder the orc's advance. Cannons were being fired from the defense towers and shots from the dwarven muskets. The knights and footsoldiers - Felrus amongst them - were forming a defensive line behind trenches and protecting the entrace to the garrison. The young rogue, of course, was by one of the towers close to the main gates, using one of his daggers to peel off a pear as he watched the orcs advance against their lines.

It was complete madness. The orcs showed no sign of military organization or tactic; over a dozen were dead before they even reached the defensive lines, and those who did reach them were violently pushed back by the defenders. From his vantage point, Dalrus saw that crude, wooden catapults were being pulled up along the hill so they would be in position to launch their projectiles at the garrison's walls.

"DESTROY THOSE CATAPULTS!" The captain leader was screaming. "KNIGHTS, WITH ME! MARCH FORWARD! LET US END THESE WRETCHED GREENSKINS! FOR THE LADY JAINA! FOR THE HUMAN EXPEDITION! FOR LORDAERON!" Battle cries could be heard from the men below, and most of them followed the knight captain towards the hill where the orcs were readying themselves to fend off the incoming counter attack. Incapable of holding back his curiosity, Dalrus triggered his stealth and followed them.

The battle over the catapults was already well underway when he arrived there. He had, of course, seen death and combat before - he himself having taken a few lives with those stabbers hanging from his belt - but this was something else. This wasn't a defense against monstrous abominations, it was a real battle against warriors.

The arid wastelands of Kalimdor made for a perfect battle field. It was difficult to trip on that arid, hardened soil, even with all the blood spilling on the ground. And now that he was closer, Dalrus realised, everything he heard from the orcs may have had some merit after all.

He saw his brother and two more armored soldiers engage an orcish grunt. The green man was almost twice as big as his attackers were, and most of that mass was composed of bulging, hulking muscles, those arms alone being as thick as a man's waist. Tusks were jutting out of the man's lower jaw, giving him an even more savage appearance. His skin was indeed a deep hue of emerald, and his eyes were, in fact, a deep crimson full of hate and lust for battle. His only armor was a strap over his shoulder and chest, a loincloth around his waist, thick hide boods and spiked bracers on his arms. His weapon, a simple wooden axe with an iron blade. Without a hint of fear, the orc bellowed a cry of challenge charged at his attackers, swinging his weapon from left to right.

Before the savagery of that onslaught, two of the soldiers faltered and stepped back, with the exception of Felrus, who stood his ground and raised his shield. The axe hit the iron kite square in it's middle, which launched Felrus straight off his feet and made him fly about two meters in the air before falling heavily on the ground. Slamming his chest with his free hand, the orc roared once more and rushed forward, axe raised with both hands.

The soldiers were already stepping in to save his brother, but Dalrus was faster. With a shadowstep, the popped into existence on top of the orc's back - which was wide enough for him to easily lay on top of - and he sank his dagger all the way down to the hilt into the orc's neck. The man's very flesh offered surprising resistence; it was like trying to stab a wheel of hard cheese. He had hoped the orc's anatomy wouldn't be too different from a human's, and twenty centimeters of steel scratching it's neck bones would be enough to send him off to that sleep no one should ever wake from. To his delight, he was correct, and the orc's eyes rolled up on his head as his knees gave out and he collapsed on his side. Pulling the dagger out of the hulk's neck, Dalrus sighed and offered his hand to Felrus. "This time, no burn marks." He said with a grin.

"Light be damned, Dalrus, what are you doing here!? It's dangerous!" Felrus was already complaining as he took his brother's hand and stood up. "This is not like back then, this is a real battle field! You're not a soldier, go back to the garrison!"

Dalrus scrunched his face at those words. "Yeah, lvoe you too, bro. I can take care of myself, thank you very much. It's you I'm worried about. So you keep doing your thing, and I'll keep doing mine... Which is watching your back." And before Felrus could complain further, Dalrus pulled the power of the Void once more and cloaked himself in shadows, vanishing from sight.

"Damnit, Dalrus!" Felrus screamed as he lifted his shield - which now sported a huge bend in it's center - and looked around. "This is no game! You go back right now!" Dalrus simply shook his head and retreated as the captain began to shout: "TO ME, MEN! LET'S TAKE DOWN THESE CATAPULTS! DON'T LET A SINGLE ROCK FLY!"

The catapults were being brought up to the hill overlooking the garrison. It was, of course, too far for projectiles to actually reach the defenders' base - otherwise, that would have been a terrible strategical location - but as soon as they reached the base, they would be able to rain down their deadly rain agains the Gilneas Brigade.

Still cursing under his breath, Felrus pulled down his helm's visor and ran ahead with the other soldiers to aid the captain. Spotting a chance to be useful again, Dalrus decided to make use of his stealth and took a long lap around them.

The orcs were clearly too busy trying to kill everyone in sight to bother with someone they couldn't see. Smaller orcs, whom Dalrus had heard were called 'peons', were loading up the catapults as they dragged the war machines downhill, and the young rogue saw his chance there. Running at top speed, he leapt from the shadows, his dagger being encased in a thick mixture of raw shadow energy, and he slashed at the catapult's ropes before vanishing again as he landed on the ground next to the machine. It was so fast, none of the orcs properly understood what had happened. The rope was split clean, and with a loud crack of wood, one of the catapult's supports snapped free, shooting splinters and metal pieces everywhere, which, in turn, made some of the peons to let go of the catapult, which then made the weight too much for the rest of them to hold on their own ant thus allowing the catapult to lose control and race downhill at top speed before crashing against the ground.

Satisfied with his results, Dalrus ran forward and hid underneath another one of the catapults, making use of the spreading chaos to add even more to his stealth. Surrounded by thick wood pieces and enormous wheels pushed by no less than six orcs, he pulled out his daggers and began to cut at the hinges of one of the wheels. It was difficult to do so whilst accompanying the catapult's movement, but in less than a minute, the support had been chipped off, and suddenly the wheel was loose. More screams could be heard as the catapult tipped and completely smashed one of the grunts under it's weight. Dalrus ran once more, moving to the next catapult.

From the other side of the line of siege weapons, most of the orcs were busy fighting the humans. There were barely any left on that side protecting the peons and the rest of the war machines. But now that there was a big commotion over on his side, the orcs were starting to turn back, thinking that was a two pronged attack. A fatal mistake, as the Gilneans were able to more easily take the orcs and push them back, destroying the catapults one by one, with Dalrus assisting them from the shadows. Not a single one made it downhill intact, nor did they launch any of it's projectiles at the garrison's walls.

What struck Dalrus as the most curious was the orc's refusal to pull back. Down to the last man, they kept on fighting to the end, screaming and roaring challenges the whole time. It would appear they really weren't afraid of death. Once the siege party had been decimated, the knight Captain ordered them to regroup and engage the main orc attack force, led by who could only be Grommash Hellscream.

Now that was a prime exemple of an orc, if Dalrus had ever seen one. His thick black hair was falling around his shoulders, with the back pulled into a ponytail atop his head. A thick iron ring could be seen piercing his nose, And the orc's jaw and chin were about as large as his entire head. Like the rest of his kin, his only armour appeared to be furst ad a single patch of iron strapped over his shoulder with skull adornations. And then, there was that singular weapon he wielded.

"COME, HUMAN DOGS! GOREHOWL WILL FEAST ON YOUR FLESH!" He was screaming, the power behind those lungs leaving little room to wonder why he was called 'Hellscream.' His axe was red and dripping with blood, and each time he brought it down, Dalrus saw another life end. His jaw dropped. Just by the time it took them to reach the main battle, he saw the orc leader kill at least seven people, all of them with a single blow from his axe. The man was a beast. An unstoppable behemoth, capable of making the defenders shiver and hesitate with his screams alone.

Despite his personal victories, however, it was clear he was outmatched, once the reinforcements arrive. Little by little, the orcs were being pushed back, and victory was well within their reach...

And then, drums.

Loud drums.

Dalrus blinked. He had never heard something like that before. He peered up at the hill they had just abandoned to join the fray below.

Kodos, he recalled, was the name of those beasts. Enormous animals native to Kalimdor, they were twice the size of a horse, and their hide was a thick grey. Horns were sticking out of their heads, and they deeply resembled reptiles in their overall appearance, with large, pitch-black eyes. And riding them... More orcs. These, however, appeared different. Whilst the members of the Warsong were clad in predominantly purple attires, as it appeared to the their clan's colours, these new orcs wore mostly red attires... And some weren't even orcs at all.

From the reports he read since arriving, he heard those particular creatures running alongside the orcs were called the 'Tauren', beastmen who were bovine in nature. They had very powerful arms and legs ending in hooves. Their faces looked like bulls and cows, with horns sticking out the tops of their heads, and most appeared to be carrying gigantic wooden poles over their backs.

As if that weren't enough, however, Dalrus also spotted something new. He had never seen those people before, and didn't quite know what to make of them. Who he presumed were men were exceptionally tall, yet lanky in their build. They had obnoxiously long crooked noses, and tusks so gigantic it was a wonder how they could keep their heads up straight. Their skin was varying shades of blue, and their hands ended in only three thick fingers. Most of them were wielding spears, with some holding staves and wearing ragged-looking dresses. Later on, Dalrus would discover those were the trolls of the Darkspear tribe, who had joined with Thrall, the new Warchief of the Horde, who was at the very front of those troops, leading the charge.

The Warchief was, to Dalrus' surprise, much less intimidating than the orc they were currently engaged with. First off, he was wearing dark plate armour all over his body, and riding a huge black wolf. On his right hand was the fabled 'Doomhammer', which he was raising high towards the sky as he rallied his troops. His face, however, was the most discerning feature of the young orc warchief.

It was savage, to be sure. Imposing, fearful. But... Dalrus couldn't quite put his finger on why, but it looked a bit more... _Humane_ to him. Every orc he had run into that day had bloodshot, crazed eyes and reeked of blood and death. This orc, however... Even while being from so far away, Dalrus could tell, his eyes were different. They were the eyes of a warrior, yes... But not one seeking death, but rather... It was quite similar to the look Dalrus saw in his brother's eyes whenever he was fighting.

"CAPTAIN! REINFORCEMENTS TO THE WEST!" A soldier screamed, and then, came the order: "REGROUP AND RETREAT TO THE GARRISON! DEFEND THE GATES!" And with that, slowly, the Gilneas brigade began it's retreat back to range of it's cannons and sharpshooters, all this while the savage Warsong orcs gave chase with loud shouts of mockery and provocation.

Raising up to the harsh words, a small regimen detached from the main group, lead by a dwarven captain. Ignoring the captain's orders, they engaged the orcs while the rest of the main group retreated.

Dalrus didn't know what to do. It was suicide. Those people were going to their deaths. There was no way they could engage that massive Horde rushing to their direction alone. He heard their shouts: "Take out their leader! For the Lady Jaina!" Dalrus bit on his lip. Could that work? The main host was somewhat far away... If they did a surprise attack that moment, could they actually kill Hellscream before retreating?

The clock was ticking. Most of the defending forces were already within the safe zone of their cannons, but the orcs were being halted by that little squad ready to engage them.

And then Dalrus saw a familiar face amongst them.

What was his name again? The little man was so tiny. A gnome, Dalrus was reminded, was what they were called. So minuscle, they would pass for dwarven children... Dalrus remembered his first day on the Garrison as they arrived in Kalimdor. There was a friendly guy who helped him out, wasn't there? How could he possible mistake that ridiculous robotic avian the gnome was riding?

"Oh, bugger me..." Dalrus whispered to himself with a moan of regret as he turned back and raced back towards the Warsong orcs.

There had been hope on his side. The armies engaging each other were of similar size, even as the main host retreated. It was a pretty even battle... That is, if it weren't for that unstoppable force that was Grommash Hellscream. The orc was like a whirlwing of death. Brandishing his weapon, Gorehowl, with both hands, each time the axe came down, another soul left this world. He was not uninjured, of course. The orc was bleeding, but he didn't even seem to realize it. All there was... Was that burning, bornerline feral fire in his eyes as he cleaved through lives as one would cleave through patches of hay.

Dalrus located Sticks within moments, despite the gnome's size. Today, he was wearing a special harness for the battle, made of this leather that covered his tiny body and legs, and thick gloves over his hands. He also wore a large leather helmet and wore goggles over his eyes, and Dalrus couldn't tell if it was just the atomic mecha bird runner or whatever it was called, but it really looked like the little guy was tremblind from head to toe, his lips firmly pressed together as he guided his mechanized mount to ram against orcs from their flanks or zap them with electricity shot from the chicken's mouth. Those actions appeared to do very little more than distracted the orcs, but it looked like it was enough.

That is, until Sticks strayed a bit too close to Hellscream. With a scoff of disdain, the orc clan leader made a swing down for the gnome. To everyone's surprise, however, he was able to jump straight over the orc's arm, and even shot some bolts at his face. Sadly, this only appeared to serve to anger Grommash even more, as with another yell of rage, he made a swing for the gnome's head. He was a tad too slow on his dodge this time, and Gorehowl cut the robotic chicken's legs clean off, it's little rider fall off the cockpit with a loud 'off' and laying on the ground. Lifting his goggles, he sat up on the dusty floor, and looked up to the massive figure of Grommash's body eclipsing the sun behind him, axe raised high for the death blow.

 _'Oh, gods, Felrus is going to be so pissed at me...'_ Dalrus thought with another moan of regret as he leapt out through the shadows, one arm wrapping around the gnome's waist, and pulled him out of the axe's range just as it's blade carved a deep hole on the ground where it's target just had been.

In hindsight, Dalrus realized, it really was his mistake. Silvious would carve his heart out for knowing he had done something like that. Just because most orcs were barbaric savages who preferred death by frontal assault, that didn't mean there weren't any amongst them bereft of skill... Especially one strong enough to be a clan leader. Thinking he could outrun an orc like that while carrying someone else - even one so small as the gnome - was pure dumb arrogance of his part. He didn't even look back that moment; he simply ran forward, trying to find a brach amongst the chaos of combat, when he felt a very large hand grip the back of his black tunic and hoist him off the ground and toss him three meters high in the air. Dalrus lost his grip over Sticks that moment, and the gnome went flying on the opposite direction he was. Dalrus saw him land heavily on the ground, and a moment later a dead orc with an arrow sticking out it's enck fell on top of him. _'Oh come on, really!?"_ Dalrus thought to himself as he whipped out his daggers and righted himself in the air, landing swiftly on his feet before a very angry looking Grommash Hellscream.

To be the direct target of those hateful eyes was an experience. Dalrus was reminded of that day he had the worgen chase after him to save the Gilnean troops by the shores of the city, and even those beasts couldn't hold a candle to the oppressive might of the orc before him. "What's this!? A _child_!?" The orc said, then spat on the ground next to him. "How dare you insult me with such pathetic troops? Am I to turn my axe on babies now? Is this truly the best you humans can offer? Children and tin toys?" He reached down for his axe - which had lodged itself so deep into the earth, the handle was sticking straight upwards - and, with one hand, he pulled it off the ground. _'Bloody hell, I am so buggered...'_ And still, Dalrus couldn't help but try and bluff his way out of this situation. "Yeah, well, imagine what they are gonna say when they hear a child was able to draw blood from the mighty Hellscream."

And to his utmost surprise, he saw the orc actually lift a brow at that. "Bold words, human. More than can be said for most of your species. NOW DIE!" And with that, gorehowl came down.

Holy hells, the orc was fast. For a weapon so big and heavy, it came down as switftly as a thin blade. Dalrus barely had time to roll to the side and avoid it's blow, but then he was peltered by debris, which prevented him from counter attacking, as his view was obscured. He got up to his feet again, only to see that axe swining once more for his head this time, coming from a more diagonal angle from below. He had to arch his back and stretch himself, and barely the blade flew over his face, missing him for hair's breadth.

And therein was his opportunity. The orc was much bigger than he was, far stronger, and had more reach... But, despite how fast he was... _Dalrus was faster._ He was reminded of his master's words, long ago: _'Remember, boy. When faced with an opponent with more range than you, you have two options: close the distance or run for your life.'_

Running wasn't much of an option that moment. If he turned his back to the orc, he was dead. The only reason he wasn't already was because Grommash had underestimated him earlier by letting go of his collar and allowing Dalrus to land by himself. He doubted the orc would repeat that mistake.

And so, he lunged forward.

He could tell the orc was absolutely not expecting that move. Within a second, Dalrus stepped in, then brought his dagger to the orc's side. He was still recovering from the wide swing with Gorehowl earlier, and this, both his arms were still upwards, which left the torso vulnerable... Not that Dalrus could actually reach the orc's vitals from where he stood. For now, crippling tactics would have to do. And so, the tip of his found the orc's hip, and with a savage grunt, Dalrus pushed his weapon as far as he could inside, over half of the steel vanishing withing the orc's body before the grip was suddenly wrestled from his hand as Grommash screamed and trashed his body, his arm coming down against Dalrus like a catapult's boulder from the sky.

And once more, his reflexes saved his neck... Literally. Dalrus' instincts told him to twist and push the dagger in further, but his training forced him to loose his grip and duck before rolling between the orc's legs and getting up on the other side, dagger still in hand, eyes never leaving his foe. There was no time to strike at a blind spot as Grommash brought his axe down on the ground, once more cascading Dalrus with debri as the orc turned around to face the boy.

"That stinged a bit, child." The orc said, his left hand coming down to curl his fingers around Dalrus' dagger and tugging it off. Blood was leaking from the wound, and the weapon fell to the ground next to the orc's boot. "You surprised me. Anyone else would have died three times over by now. I'm gonna enjoy splitting your skull into two!"

Dalrus bent his knees and got into a low crouch, his only remaining dagger twisting around to an underhand grip while his free left hand hung in front of his body, as he had been instructed to do when holding only a single dagger. _'Welp, this is it. Guy didn't even blink when I buried fifteen centimeters of steel in his gut. Man, I hope master Silvius never hears about this... Ah who am I kidding, he'd chase me to the afterlife to scold me for all eternity after this one.'_ Taking in a deep breath... Dalrus readied himself to make his last stand.

And then another dead orc fell on top of him.

"Son of a...!" Was all Dalrus could say as he collapsed under that massive weight, pinning down everything below his neck and left shoulder. His vision was obscured, and he gasped, barely able to breath. All he could see were feet moving back and forth all around him, the loud noises of blades clashing, the screams of the fallen and the bellows of the victors...

And then... Silence.

Dalrus couldn't hear much from under the dead weight pressing down on him. He heard people talking... One was Grommash. No way he could mistake that deep, rumbling voice. The other one... Dalrus had no idea. They were arguing about something... It appeared as if one of them was... Berating Grommash? Something about attacking the humans. Then Grommash complaining about lust for battles, and something about a frail girl leading the humans. Dalrus closed his eyes and tried to listen.

"...Blocked off the passes leading to the north." Hellscream was saying.

"Well, we must make it through to the pass despite her. I'll send our hunters to scout the area while we establish a base. Until then, the humans are not to be touched!" Dalrus blinked. What?

He heard a scoff. "Whatever you say, warchief. Right after I finish this little whelp off." And for Dalrus' relief, the dead orc was lifted off his back... Only for him to realized what that meant a second later as he looked up and saw Grommash lifting his axe high up, obscuring the sun.

 _'You know, all things considered, this isn't such a bad way to go. I'll just choose to believe that thanks to my heroic efforts, everyone managed to retreat safely.'_ Were Dalrus' final thoughts as he braced himself for death. With a wild grunt, Garrosh brought his axe down.


	22. Chapter 22 - The Orcish Horde

_**Chapter 22 - The Orcish Horde**_

A bright flash. The noise of metal slamming against metal. Dalrus did not even dare to breathe that moment, and simply watched as the events unfolded.

The orc wearing the black plate armor had lifted his hammer before Dalrus' face, thus preventing Gorehowl from cleaving him into two. It's wilder was staring down at the other orc, unmoving. "Have you lost your damn mind, Grom!?" The orc in armor shouted. "I gave you an order to leave the humans alone, not to start executing prisioners! Put down your weapon, and call back your forces. _Now._ "

For a moment, it appeared as if Hellscream was about turn the axe on this orc instead. But, to Dalrus' surprise, he took in a deep breath and stepped back, his weapon lowered. "Fine. He's all yours. Do whatever you want with him, warchief." He grunted, those deep red eyes staring down at the young rogue full of scorn before he turned around and returned to the midst of his troops.

The armored orc then turned back to face his prisioner. His face was about as wide, stern and brutish as any other orc he had seen that day... But, surprisingly, it was much more... Tame was not quite the correct expression, but it was the best Dalrus could come up with. It lacked that raw savagery, that eagerness other orcs seemed to have to start brandishing their weapons at anything that moved. Then he felt two huge pairs of hands gripping him by his arms and hoisting him so high up his feet were dangling in the air. Upon looking up, Dalrus saw each belonged to an orc grunt. "What shall we do with the prisioner, Warchief?" Asked one of them.

The Warchief's eyes ran Dalrus up and down, inspecting him. "Put him in one of our cages and keep him there until I can interrogate him. Until then, nobody touch him." The orcs then said something Dalrus had no idea what it meant - possibly the orc language? - And with that, he was dragged off, his arms completely locked in place by palms that were almost as big as he was, his guards not uttering a word to each other, or to him, and Dalrus himself thinking that, for once, it might be best for him to remain silent.

This new Horde was already busy building an outpost. Dalrus couldn't help but notice their architecture was far more... Crude than the finely sculpted stone buildings the Human Expedition possessed. Most of them were simple tents with wooden spikes sticking out of them. Orcs of varying sizes were scuttling about - although even the smallest of them was still as big as the biggest human Dalrus had ever laid eyes upon - along with the trolls and Tauren. Then there were those other hulking beasts he had seen earlier, the kodos. They were much bigger from up close, and the smell, much worse. Finally, the gigantic wolves some orcs had been riding into battle. The beasts' nostrils flared as Dalrus was carried close to them, and one of them even bared it's fangs and tried to snap at him, only for it's rider to pull in the reins at the last second. He said something in orcish that Dalrus did not understand, pointing at him, and all his companions laughed. _'Welp, this is dandy. At least I'm not dead.'_ He thought to himself.

They dragged him off to the very edge of the camp. There were many steel cages there, most of them empty, a few holding what appeared to be human skeletons. He was unceremoniously tossed inside of one, and the door was slammed shut behind him. He turned around just in time to see a heavy iron lock snapping into place before the two grunts began arguing about who would watch him first.

With a long, tired sigh, Dalrus slipped back against one of the thick steel grates and sat down cross-legged. The upside is, that cage was clearly meant for something way bigger than he was, so there was plenty of room for him to lean back on. Downside was there was no way for him to pick that lock without being noticed, and the smell was really making him wrinkle his nose.

 _'Man, what a mess.'_ He thought, hands crossed over his lap. _'I wonder if anyone will try to rescue me. Eh, probably not. I wasn't even supposed to be here in the first place. Guess this one is all on me, then.'_ He looked over to his left. There was a tall wooden fence surrounding the pens where the beasts were locked, so he couldn't see much. Only busy orc peons carrying construction materials and hastily setting up a base camp. The sun was lowering by now, and it's orange setting rays were adding even more to Kalimdor's barren wasteland's tone. _'Probably should wait until the dark to try and escape... Picking this lock without my daggers is gonna be a pain, though.'_ And then it hit him. _'Bloody hell, my daggers! Those were a gift!'_ He sighed, then patted his empty belt straps, sad that his trusty stabbers were no longer hanging there. One he had left lodged into Grommash's waist, which the orc later pulled off and kicked away. The other one had been dropped by himself when that dead orc fell on his back. The grunts didn't bother to check him before locking him up, which meant his throwing daggers were still safely stashed under his tunic, as were his throwing stars and the short spare knives in his boots.

And so, Dalrus waited. The hours seemed to stretch themselves thin as he had nothing better to do than watch the grunts argue and the peons work the beasts to his side - at one point, someone Dalrus presumed to be a beastmaster came in and he heard him referring to them as 'wargs' before handing one over to a rider - growled and prowled back and forth inside their cages. Finally, the sun had set, and torches were lit to illuminate the orcish camp.

For something thrown up so hastily, Dalrus had to admit it was efficient, despite looking so... Barebones. The craftsmanship was shabby, but it appeared quite solid. It would seem the orcs cared more for function over form. While everything was mostly made of wood with a few stone and iron reinforcements, the whole thing appeared to be quite sturdy, too. Burrows, barracks, halls, posts for weapons and armor, a kitchen... The Horde was quick to erect a functional camp before the darkness had fully set in. He figured they were quite used to building new settlements as quickly as possible, considering the Horde's more... Nomadic nature. He was far more curious about the newcomers, however. He had never heard of the tauren or those trolls before. He wondered how they came to be part of this new Horde.

More and more he waited. He wondered how long he had been laying there, his back against the rough, cold steel of the cage, legs stretched in front of him, twiddling his thumbs as he looked left, right and up every now and then in a desperate search for something to break his boredom. His only constant there was the grunt sitting on a bench a few paces from his cage, who somehow managed to spend all those hours inspecting and sharpening his axe. Finally, unable to hold himself back, he looked at his guard and spoke: "So... What's your homeland like? I'm betting you guys are not from around here, right?"

The orc froze, his hand still squeezing the wetting stone, then looked down at him. Not a word was uttered, he simply stared, unmoving. Then, very slowly, he got up, feet dragging over the dusty ground, and stopped just in front of the boy's cage, his words coming out like grunts. "The next time you open your mouth again, I'm gonna cut off your tongue and feed it to the wyverns." The orc's axe slammed against the side of the cage in order to make his point. Then he went back to his bench and resumed that eternal maintenance on his weapon.

 _'Friendly bunch.'_ Dalrus thought with an internal sigh. It was that moment that another orc showed up, and began speaking with his guard in their native tongue, much to Dalrus' frustration. He presumed he was being informed his shift was over, because that orc got up and walked away while the other one took his place on the bench, arms crossed as those intense little eyes locked into the boy. Dalrus wondered how long would he resist keeping his mouth shut before he was bored enough that risking his life was worth trying to start another conversation.

Before he had to make that choice, however, one of those tauren walked into the scene, and approached the orc guard. "The warchief wishes to speak with the prisioner." The orc simply raised a brow, then shrugged. "Very well."

Curiosity rose within Dalrus. He watched as the tauren left, his guard's eyes never leaving the boy. The orc stepped up and shouted a command. Two more grunts scurried off to join them, armed with long spears. They all approached his cage, sharp ends of their weapons aimed at him through the holes in the grates. The orc opened the lock, then pulled from his waist a pair of iron shackles, which he threw into Dalrus' lap. "Put these on and follow. And if you so much as make a single step we don't tell you to, warchief's orders or not, we skewer you where you stand."

Getting up, Dalrus lifted those heavy iron binds. They must weight about five kilos each. It would be a task just to keep his arms up with those things on. "Wouldn't dream of it." Was his reply as he bound his own wrists and slowly stepped out of his cage. The orcs surrounded him in a triangle, then began to escort him down the camp, with rough spear butts crossed behind the boy and cutting off any escape route. He was guided towards the main tent at the center of the camp, a huge edifice clad in red cloths and bearing what Dalrus presumed was the banner of the Horde, a wooden shield with iron edges and two axes crossed behind it. It was certainly more threatening than what the Alliance had.

He was brought in through the entrance, and within was a wide main hall. Orcs, trolls and tauren were all over the place, most of them working on their weapons, chatting or discussing some more serious matter. Every single one of them had their eyes on Dalrus as he was brought inside, most of them filled with scorn and disdain. One orc even shouted something in their native language and spat in his general direction, which many more cheered him for and began to presumably shout their own insults at him while slamming their weapons against any nearby object in order to make more noise.

Then, another command was shouted. Looking up, Dalrus saw that, at the very end of the halls, sitting on a wide wooden chair, was the armored orc who Dalrus assumed was their leader. Everyone else in the room was immediately quiet. Then, muttering lowly amongst themselves, they all picked up their belongings and began to leave the halls, more than one sparing a moment to launch another threatening look in Dalrus' direction on their way out, leaving only him, his guards and the Warchief within those halls. Dalrus was brought to a few paces in front of him, then forced on his knees as the spears slammed at his legs. "Don't move, human dog." One of the guards grunted as Dalrus simply grunted in protest. And then there was more chatter in the orcish language.

After a brief exchange, the guards all stepped aside, giving the boy more room to peer at the armored Warchief. His hammer was laying on the ground next to his feet, and he had one hand squeezing the edge of his chair while the other tapped at the handle of his weapon. "Speak your name, human." He finally said in perfectly pronounced common, staring directly into Dalrus' eyes.

Coughing a bit, Dalrus straightened his back, then crossed his legs on the ground so he was a bit more comfortable. "Dalrus, uh... Sir. It's Dalrus Plaguefang, your... Warchiefness." He blinked, confused, not sure what else to say, then there was a growl from the guards and suddenly he had two spear tips pressing against his neck. The Warchief shouted and raised his hand, and the guards stepped down once more. "Dalrus." The orc repeated. "My name is Thrall. I am the Warchief of the orcish Horde... Although, now, we may no longer be able to call ourselves that. The horde is more than just the orcs now. Ever since our journey began, we have grown. We left the Eastern Kingdoms of Azeroth in search of our destiny in these lands. So tell me, Dalrus Plaguefang. Why are you here?"

After launching a nervous side glance at the armed guards surrounding him, Dalrus cleared his throat and said: "Well, mister, ah... Thrall. I assume you're asking why not just me, but all of the Human Expedition is here, right?"

He saw the orc's eyes narrow. "Yes. I thought we had left this damned war behind us when we finally left your shores and sought a land of our own. Is that not enough for you? Must you chase us across the sea and continue this endless strife?"

For once in his life, Dalrus was taken off guard. What was this orc saying? "Woah, woah, hold on a minute now." He said, lifting his hands defensively. "We didn't chase anyone. Your hot headed friend back there was the one who launched an attack on us. We were just defending ourselves. Hell, I didn't even know you people were settling here."

Thrall gripped his hammer, then slammed it's head against the ground, a loud metallic noise echoing around them. "Then why are you here, human? Why has your leader decided to bring her people across the sea and set themselves in this barren land that belongs to no one?"

The boy's brows furrowed even further, his confusion very clear in his face. "What do you mean why? Would you rather have us just stay behind and be up to our necks in walking corpses and demons?"

"Know your place, human dog! Show respect to the warchief!" One of the guards shouted, his lance already lifting to come down on Dalrus' face. The warchief then suddenly stood up, and everyone was still. "What did you just say?" Thrall whispered, his eyes narrowing down at the same time his lids went very wide.

"I-I..." Dalrus swallowed, then spoke more clearly. "I mean... Things are pretty bad back there. You know, what with the undead scourge and the Burning Legion killing everyone in their path. We were told this was the only place where we stood a chance of stopping them. So, yeah. Here we are."

A curious look washed over Thrall's face. The orc ran his long gloved hand over his head and took in a deep breath before sitting down again. "You." He said, lifting his hammer to point at one of the guards. "Go summon Grom Hellscream. Now. He must know about this. And you." The hammer then was pointed at Dalrus. "Tell me everything that's happened ever since we left the shores of the Eastern Kingdoms."

There was no reason to lie. As the guard left, Dalrus began narrating the events that had unfolded ever since prince Arthas discovered the Cult of the Damned in Lordaeron. He spoke of the rise of the Scourge, the destruction of the capital, the prince's betrayal, the fall of the elven kingdom, and the return of the Burning Legion. He spoke about the siege against his city, the people he watched die defending his home, and his own decision to join his brother when the summons to take the fight to this new land came.

All this, Thrall listened to intently, making a few inquiries regarding some details every now and then. Finally, Dalrus finished with: "Then, when the order to retreat came, everyone was falling back, but then I saw those people rushing back in and... I saw a friend amongst them. So I decided to turn back as well and try to help him." He sighed. "Big mistake. He's probably dead, too. I began fighting against your big angry friend, but then someone fell on top of me in the middle of the fight, and... Well, the rest you know."

Dalrus watched as the orc leaned heavily back against his seat, his eyes closed as he was clearly in deep thought. "So, it is true... The demons have, indeed, returned." Dalrus couldn't make out what the orc was thinking. He couldn't help but be reminded of how Lady Jaina had appeared during their chat the previous night. "And you have joined this war so young to aid your brother and protect your land?"

"I... Guess that's one way of putting it, yes." Dalrus took in a deep breath, then coughed once more. His throat was very dry, and he was very tired, his body still sore from all his previous battles. "Sorry to ask, but... I don't suppose you have any water? Unless you're gonna kill me? Even so, before I die, I could really go for one last drink..."

Thrall's expression did not change. He was looking up at the ceiling now, as if he were lost in thought. Then, he reached down for his belt, and pulled out a large leather sack. He tossed it at Dalrus, who deftly caught it in the air. The instant he touched it, he realized it was full of water. "Oh, thank you!" He said as he pulled the cork out and poured it's contents down his throat without a second thought. He drank avidly, making sure not to spill one drop, and when he was finished, he realized Thrall was covering his eyes with his hand, looking very tired. "Oh... Uh... Sorry. D-do you want some too?" The boy offered, holding the water bag up in front of him.

The orc's head snapped back down to face him, and saw his own bag being offered by the human prisioner on his knees. A very curious expression took over Thrall's features. Dalrus might have been crazy, but... Was that nostalgia? And was that a faint smile creeping up on the corners of the orc's mouth? Thrall stood up once more, then looked at the guards. "You two, go inform the captains about what this boy has said regarding the undead and the legion. Then go fetch Watu in the Darkspear camp and tell her to wait for me outside."

"But, warchief, that would leave you alone-" A grunt began to say before Thrall cut him off. "Now!" And with that, the two scurried off as hastily as possible. Thrall knelt down before Dalrus, the orc's huge green face mere inches away from the boy's. Slowly, he lifted his free hand, then took the water bag out of Dalrus' hands. "Long ago, human, I was at the mercy of your kind." He finally said. It was that moment that Dalrus finally realized the most distinguishing feature the warchief possessed; his eyes were a deep, beautiful shade of blue.

"I knew nothing but cruelty and misery in your hands." The warchief continued to speak. "My life had no worth, and I would put it on the line for nothing more than your amusement. There was only one among you who showed me kindness. She showed me a beautiful side in your people. She gave me hope that one day we could end this war and leave in peace. But then..." His expression changed, a spark of anger flashing in his eyes. "She was slaughtered for having aided me, and saving me from a life of despair and servitude. Ever since then, I have stayed away from your kind, searching for a proper place for my people to live in peace."

Dalrus blinked, not sure what to make out of this. "But... Why?" Was all he managed to say. "Why would they kill her?"

Thrall's eyes seemed filled with sadness now. "Because a vile, cruel man owned her, much like he owned me. My very name was meant to be a mark of my servitude. A mark of my shackles. But I turned this name into one I can be proud of. A name my people can utter with hope in their hearts. And I intend to lead them to salvation. So tell me, human. Is there a chance for this to happen? Can your people leave us to our fate? Can we put an end to this endless carnage and bloodshed?"

The rogue apprentice was speechless. An end? A true end? No more war between the human alliance and the orcish horde? No more battles, no more deaths? Peering into Thrall's eyes, suddenly, Dalrus saw something else. Underneath that deep, pristine saphire coloration, he saw something... _Raw._ Primal. Like a wild, untamed power. He could sense it, somewhat, emanating from this orc.

Those whispers... They were nothing like the malevolent ones always trying to drag Dalrus over the abyss of madness. These didn't even feel like words; more like... Intentions. Like how when you catch a person eyeing your spoonfull of food, and you know they want some. Or how earlier that day and he noticed how badly Hellscream wanted to use his bones as splinters for a new jacket. They were incredibly faint, however. Like a breeze washing over his ear in an utterly silent room. He couldn't understand what they were trying to say, but... He had a sense of what they meant.

That this orc was someone who truly desired to help this world.

Dalrus took in a deep breath, and was reminded of his conversation with Lady Jaina the previous night. He remembered how fearful she was for her people. He remembered how his own king had built those walls in order to shelter his subjects. And here was this orc, in much the very same position as those two... A leader who only desired to see his people living safe and happy.

The boy slowly exhaled. Then, carefully, he began to speak: "Deep down, I believe everybody desires peace... To crave war and strife is something only beasts and demons can do. I wasn't even born yet when the first orc invasion began on Azeroth, but my entire life I was tought to hate and fear the Horde. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe we don't really hate each other... We just think we do. If you stop for a moment, take a deep breath and look around, anyone can notice that your opponent bleeds the same way you do. That they probably also have a reason to be risking their lives. Something they want to keep safe. Maybe, if we all realized that, we could stop fighting like this, and just... Focus on what's really important. So, if you want to know my honest opinion about whether we can put an end to this conflict or not... It's up to each and every one of us, really."

The orc Warchief did not speak for a few moments. He closed his eyes, then lifted his head. Suddenly, Dalrus felt it... That raw, primal energy was swirling around them like a vortex, almost tangibly so. The very air felt... _Charged._ Again, it was so different from the power of the Void. That felt more like a ravenous beast lurking in a cave just waiting for someone stupid enough to wander in, but this... It was like Dalrus was staring into the eyes of an old veteran wolf. A wary and wise creature, ready to act or react to the smallest movement. Unpredictable.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone, and Thrall's eyes opened. "The elements are... In jeopardy. This land cries... The corruption spreads. Truly, the Legion spreads its flames." The orc stood up to his full height, hammer in hand, then looked down at Dalrus. "Your words, young human... Although you may be my enemy, they fill me with hope. I know the seeds of hatred can take deep roots, but if one as young as you can see past this dark mist of hatred that clouds our eyes... Perhaps there is hope for the future. Perhaps... There is hope that we put down our differences, and face the true enemy... The one who cares not if we bleed. I have seen it..." Thrall closed his eyes once more, and Dalrus could see his face twisting into a pained, tormented expression. "A dark future where the demons have consumed all. They care for naught but the chaos they bring. The only reason for their very existence is to spread pain and suffering. There is nothing but malice within them. There is no hope for peace against the Legion."

Slow and carefully, Dalrus began to stand up. Since the warchief made no motions to stop him, or give any sign he should just stay down, he continued until he was stretching his legs once more. "Then why are we wasting time attacking each other? If there's a bigger threat out there, shouldn't we make a truce and focus on the real enemy?"

Thrall's expression was stern, yet full of sorrow. "Your words are full of wisdom, young one... But it is the wisdom of the innocent... Of the naive. It is not that simple. I too desire peace, but old hatreds don't simply end like that. My people have suffered greatly because of yours. Can you imagine yourself forgiving the undead who once laid siege to your city?"

Dalrus hesitated. "I... That's different. Those things aren't even alive. They are just puppets in the hands of a much greater evil. Unlike them, we get to choose. And I say the first step towards peace is to stop attacking without any provocation."

One again, Dalrus could feel that energy filling the room. It was as if Thrall was a syphoon through which this energy was channeled. What the hell was that? Dalrus just couldn't pinpoint it's source. It felt like it was coming from the earth, the sky, the torches illuminating the halls, the air surrounding them and the rats running through the corners all at once... Like everything that made up this world was somehow connected to the orc.

Slowly, Thrall opened his mouth. "Perhaps, we can..." That moment, however, there was a loud commotion outside, and one of the grunts Thrall had sent off earlier came running in. "Warchief, the Warsong clan is attacking humans despite your orders!"

Dalrus felt his heart sink. He turned around, shocked. "They what?"

Ignoring the human boy, Thrall threw his hammer against the ground, then screamed: "Damn it! There's nothing to do now but fight!" With a heavy expression, the orc walked up to where his hammer had landed on the ground and picked it up. "We are ready, warchief! What are your orders?" The grunt asked as he waited by the entrance. "Tighten our defenses." Thrall instructed. "I'll deal with Hellscream later." The grunt nodded, then hurried off to relay the warchief's orders. Thrall sighed, then ran his hand over his face, looking utterly exhausted. That raw, primal energy from earlier was completely gone now. "Perhaps it is our destiny, to go on fighting the humans forever..." He mumbled, mostly to himself.

"H-hey, wait a minute! You can't just-" Dalrus began to say as he tried to take one step towards Thrall. The next moment he was face-down on the floor, feeling something very long and heavy pressed against his back and a very familiar edge against his neck. From on top of him, he could hear a feminine voice with a very thick accent speaking. "Careful, warchief. I wouldn't be turning mah back on de enemy like diz. Even bound, he could still bite."

Thrall turned back to look at whoever was pressing their weight on top of Dalrus' body. "Watu, I want you to move this human back to your tent, and keep watch over him until the battle is over. As for you..." When his eyes shifted back down on the boy, Dalrus could see they were full of sorrow. "I am sorry that our talk has been for naught, young one... But I am afraid the safety of the Horde must come first. I give you my word that so long as you are our prisioner, no harm will come to you." And with that, the orc turned around once more and marched out of the halls, leaving Dalrus alone with his new captor and a deep sense of dread over what was about to happen.

In his mind, he could only hear that chuckle. _"The closer you get to hope... The farther away it is ripped out of your hands."_

 _'Oh, sod off.'_


	23. Chapter 23 - Loss

_**Chapter 23 - Loss**_

"No tricks now, mon. De warchief said not to hurt you, but dats only if you behave." Dalrus' captor said as she slowly stepped out of his back, the dagger still firmly pressed against the side of his neck. "Not dat you would get far if you tried. You be right in de middle of our camp."

Looking back over his shoulder, he finally managed to see exactly who had managed to get the drop on him.

The first thing he thought was _'Woah, she's pretty.'_ Second was: _'OK, she's not human. Still pretty though.'_

The woman was almost twice his height, matching most orcs in size, but lacking by far in bulk. In fact, her musculature resembled that of a regular human woman, if she had decided to take on the life of a soldier and developed them through constant exercise. This Dalrus could tell because of how scantily she was dressed; there was a tight crimson wrap around her chest, but not over her shoulders. Around her waist, a belt, from which a thick leather loincloth hung all the way down to her knees. A pair of brown bone bracelets were strapped around her forearms, and a collar adorned with sharp fangs was hanging around her neck. Along with a single leather ankled on her left leg, that was all the woman wore.

Her skin was a deep shade of blue, like the sea. Dalrus imagined she belonged to the same race as those ugly blue men with tusks he had seen earlier, but she was so different from them, it was almost like she was from a whole different species. Her face was incredibly human shaped, save for a slightly longer nose, and much smaller tusks jutting out under her lower lips, these only going halfway up her cheeks and being as thin as Dalrus' fingers. Her wild red hair was combed into a mohawk, leaving the sides of her head shaved, and she had long pointy ears - not nearly as long as an elf's, of course, but longer than his - with at least four bone tooth earrings on each. Her hands only sported three fingers each, and when he looked down, Dalrus noticed her feet only had two toes. "So you be a human, eh? First time seeing one up close like diz. But you be smaller den de other ones we killed today. Are you not a man yet, mon?" She was saying as she stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with interest as she placed her hands on her hips and bent her back a bit to get a better look at him.

Dalrus lifted a brow. "Uh... Yes, I am a man. I'm just... Probably younger than most humans you saw." It was hard not to be distracted by her rather... Well developed body. Naturally, being as skilled in stealth as he was - as well as blooming lad at that specific age - Dalrus had taken a peek of women during their more... Private moments back in Gilneas, so naturally he was no innocent angel when it came to a woman's body. But never had he seen someone like Watu. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but uh... You're not an orc, right?"

She simply threw her head back, and laughed. "Dat be a good one, mon. Can't say I blame ya for not knowin'. Our leader only decided to join Thrall a few days ago." He was utterly mesmerized by that cocky expression she had, as if he were a rat trapped between the paws of a cat. "We be de Darkspear trolls, mon. Spend most of our lives on de southern kingdoms, until we were driven off to de Darkspear Islands. Den one day, Thrall helped us out in our moment of greatest need, and our leader Vol'Jin decided our future was with him."

It was quite a bit to take in at once. Of course, he had heard of trolls before. Murderers, poachers, thieves, and practicants of some crazy religion that demanded blood and sacrifices. Kids would be told stories about how if they were bad, a troll would drag them off during the night and offer them to their evil gods. "I... See." And then his eyes were attracted to Watu's hands. Held in between those thick, long fingers, were nothing less than Dalrus' own daggers. "Hey, those are mine!" He protested, pointing at his weapons.

"Wat, these?" Dalrus watched as the woman spun one of his stabbers over one stubby knuckle. "I picked dem up in de battlefield earlier. Thought dey looked pretty, so now dey be mine. Anyway, dat be enough chatter, mon. I'll be taking you to my tent now. Warchief said I should watch you." Then, using Dalrus' own daggers, she poked the boy in the back and directed him towards the exit. He had no choice but to lower his head, sigh, and walk as instructed.

If he thought the orc camp was busy earlier, now it was practically a bee's hive. Many people were shouting and running back and forth carrying crates full of throwing spears to the watch towers, as well as hastily trying to fortify walls and erect more spikes out of them. For once, no one was paying Dalrus much attention, since it looked like they were far more focused on the battle already in progress.

"Dey be busy." Watu casually said as they walked. "Would be nice to join them, but diz be fine too. I never got to watch a human before. All the others who attacked us back in the isles wind up dead before we take them prisioner."

Dalrus looked back in surprise. "Wait, they were attacking you? All the way out in the isles? Why?" He asked, perplexed. He would imagine driving trolls off the shores of Stranglehorn would be enough.

"Who knows, mon. People be killing each other over silly tings. Maybe because we have six fingers, and dey be having ten. I can't believe how you manage to work so many little tings at once. And they be so tiny, too! I bet they break real easy." She chuckled to herself, then lead Dalrus towards the western side of the camp. "It be diz way, mon. No funny business now. You be in de Darkspear territory, and most don't like your kind much."

"Oh, that's lovely." Dalrus said, his wrists burning from having worn those cuffs for so long now. Damn things were pretty heavy, too. Not much at first, but after wearing them for so long, his arms were feeling very tired now.

Amazingly, the troll hutts managed to look even more rustic and tribal than the orcs'. Most were basically a stick on the ground with a large cloth over them, or four sticks holding a larger cloth that did little more than filter sun or moonlight. Most trolls were simply laying over stray mats or on the floor itself.

The trolls were also very varying in their features, most notably, their tusks. They came in all shapes and sizes, although most were still about as long as the troll's head. They also wore ritualistic paintings and tattoos, and some even sported several bone piercings all over their faces. A few gave Dalrus sideway glances, but most ignored them completely.

That is, until suddenly there was a loud 'thud' from a stick hitting the ground, and a heavy troll voice said: "Hold it right dere."

Dalrus and Watu turned around. For the young rogue, it was a wonder how the old troll speaking to them could keep his head up. His tusks jutted downwards from his jaw before bending back up and circling around his head like a ram's horns upside down. His entire face was covered in black and white paint, giving it the ghastly resemblance of a skull. He sported a thick bone piercing through his nostrils, and his long green hair sported many more bone adornations of creatures Dalrus couldn't identify. He wore a ragged robe, and on his hand was a long wooden staff, which Dalrus presumed he had used to draw their attention earlier. "Watu. You be bringing bad juju into our midst. What are you tinking, girl?"

Now every single troll had stopped what they were doing to look up and stare at them. Dalrus began to feel nervous. Watu, however, looked annoyed. "Diz be the warchief's orders, Tal'din! He say I should watch the human prisioner until the battle is over. No bad juju here."

The skull faced troll, who Dalrus assumed was Tal'din, squinted his eyes and approached the duo, his gaze fixed on the human boy the entire time. "Can't you feel it, girl? Diz boy be touched. Bad juju hangs around him like a cloud. The shadow got it's eyes on him."

"Hold on, what?" Dalrus said, both of his brows perking up as the troll simply didn't stop walking until his face was right on top of Dalrus', which prompted the boy to lean back to prevent their noses from touching. "Look, I don't know what you heard, but no... Juju or whatever touched me, alright?"

The troll's eyes were a deep shade of violet, and Dalrus felt like they were sucking him in as they stared, unblinking, into Dalrus' on. "You are marked, boy. You went too far in. De shadow is not like bat. It cannot be tamed and taught to accept a master. De shadow is a beast. It only knows hunger. And you gave it a taste of you, mon. And now it be wanting more."

He felt a cold grip in his heart, and then, as clear as if a person were actually whispering in his ear, he heard the words: _'He is dangerous! He wants you dead! Kill him first! Your weapons are within reach! You need only reach for them, and do it!'_

Dalrus merely coughed, then shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about... Sir. Now, if you excuse me, I believe I'm late for my interrogation, or... Whatever you do to prisioners." He nervously looked up at Watu, who was peering back down at him with a curious expression.

Tal'din did not move. His eyes switched from Dalrus to the troll woman escorting him. "You be wary, girl. There be no turning back for him now. Sooner or later, de shadows are gonna sink their teeth into him, and like a hungry shark, dey won't let go." With that ominous profecy, and much to Dalrus' relief, the troll turned back around and walked away from the duo. "Now dat be sometin'. What did you do to get the shadows so hungry for you, mon?" Watu inquired as everyone else began to resume their activities... Although Dalrus did notice a lot of them seemed to be avoiding getting to close to them now.

"I told you, I have no idea what you're on about. I'm perfectly fine." The boy stated, gaze now fixated on the ground between his boots. _'No one must know about us... You must kill all who discover our secret. Kill them before they kill you!'_

"Whatever, mon. We be here. In you go." They had arrived at a slightly more built hut than most in that area. This one was actually closed, with the four corners of the tent nailed to the ground. Watu pushed Dalrus inside, then followed him afterwards.

There wasn't a lot of room in there; the two could barely stand up together. Hanging from the walls of the tent were a few leather bags full of herbs and bones, and in the middle of the tent was a huge patch of furs, which Dalrus presumed the woman used as her bed. Next to one of the bags was a huge hunting spear, even bigger than the woman was, with a wide, leaf-shaped tip. "Make yerself comfortable, mon. We gonna be here for a while now." Watu declared as she sat crosslegged. She reached up for one of the bone-filled bags and laid it over her lap, which made the entire thing rattle loudly.

"Right..." Sighing, Dalrus lowered himself against one of the fur patches, a moan of relief escaping him as he was finally able to lay his wrists against the floor. He watched as Watu began to pull individual bones out of her bag, then threw them onto the dirty floor in front of her, only to pick them back up and toss them again. Pressing his lips, he ran his eyes over the insides of Watu's tent once more, but there was literally nothing more for him to observe. "Soooooo..." He said out loud after a couple minutes of the woman enjoying her little bone game. "Your name is Watu, right?"

Without looking up from her bag, she said: "Dat's right, mon. Dat be my name."

"Lovely. I'm Dalrus." With a little grunt, he laid on his back on top of the furs, his shackled hands now resting over his torso. "So... What's it like where you come from, Watu? These... Darkspear Islands?"

The rattling stopped. Looking up, Dalrus noticed the troll was staring at him, a new handful of bones in her grip as she looked like she was about to toss them. "Why you be asking me dat, mon? Ya planning to do sometin'?"

Dalrus simply shrugged. "Not really. I just... Never had a conversation with a troll before. So I figured I'd try to get to know you a little more."

She looked confused, her head even tilting to the side slightly. "Why?" She simply said.

Now it was his turn to be confused. "Well... Isn't that what you do when you want to understand someone? I know next to nothing about your people. Like my master used to say, ignorance only breeds more conflict."

Watu said nothing that moment, and finished tossing her bones instead. She stared at them for a while, then suddenly she threw her head back and laughed again. "You be a funny one, mon. I never heard of a human who wanted to know more about us before. Only kill."

He shrugged once more. "Well, maybe if more people were interested in chatting rather than waving weapons around, we wouldn't be at war like this."

And then suddenly there was a shadow over him. Each of the woman's huge muscular thighs were straddling his head, with her body looming over his face from above, her face peering down at him from an upside-down angle. "What you sayin', mon? Dat we should just talk tings out? And what about de dead? What about our losses? What about revenge?"

His heart raced within his chest, his rational mind telling him this was an important conversation to be having as it could be the first steps towards a healthy diplomatic relationship, while his young blooming mind could only focus on the fact that woman had her knees around his shoulders and if he lifted his head just a little more he'd be able to peek under her loincloth. "Of course there is all that, too. Trust me, I know. But if no one backs down, there will always be someone wanting revenge and justice. Your enemy can feel pain and grief the same way you do."

She then reached out for that huge spear laying against the tent's wall, then she held it against her chest, those deft blue hands slowly rubbing the shaft as she pondered. "De spirits can't rest until you give dem rest. And for dat, you need to make de people who killed dem pay."

The boy pinched himself through his clothes in order to focus once more. "Well, yeah, everyone knows that. But... You know, the same goes for the enemy. The people you kill... Their spirits will also be restless afterwards, won't they?"

Watu spat to the side. "Pah! Let dem! It be deir own falt for attacking us in de first place!"

Dalrus lifted his hands in a peaceful gesture. "So... If they stopped attacking... Wouldn't that solve the issue? That's what peace is all about. Nobody kills anybody, nobody needs revenge, nobody dies an angry spirit."

It actually looked as if that thought had never crossed the woman's mind. She was quiet, now idly spinning that spear in her hands. "Dat won't work. Life is fightin'. Life is killin'. It's de way tings be. Kill, or be killed. Peace is nice but it will never happen. Not until one side kills de other."

That managed to distract Dalrus from what she was doing to the spear's shaft. "Eh... Maybe I'm a dumb child, then. But I'd rather try and fight for a world where folks are allowed to live a carefree life without the fear of being slaughtered out of nowhere."

Watu laughed again, then, both to the boy's relief and his disappointment, she got up and leaned back against the side of the tent. "Dat's just silly. We fight for each other. We protect what's important. Family. Your tribe. Nobody can protect everyone. Dere always be fightin', mon. Dat's why we are warriors. We learn how to fight and kill so they die instead."

Dalrus sighed. "Yeah, I suppose that's how life seems to go around here..." The young noble boy was reminded of his early years in Gilneas... And how things had turned around so much since then.

He heard a little clank, then looked up. Watu now had his daggers on her waist. She had to long, sharp bones in each hand, and appeared to be scratching a hole through the dagger's guards.

"Hey, those are my daggers!" He said, instinctively trying to get up, but suddenly there was a huge, two-toed foot squeezing his neck and pushing him back down against the floor. He coughed. "Give them back, they were a gift!"

Watu simply grinned down at him, her foot squeezing his neck a tad harder. "I told you, mon. Dey be mine now. And I tink I'm gonna give them a bit more jazz." Pinned down by her leg like that, Dalrus had no choice but to watch helplessly as the troll completely removed the guards and covers from both of his daggers, leaving the spiky steel completely bare. "These be some good weapons. But I make dem better." She proudly declared, then pulled out another bag from above.

Again, Dalrus had no choice but to watch as the woman began applying modifications to the weapons. She added little bony spikes to the pommels, as well as little yellow gemstones at the bottom of each blade. She then wrapped a thick dark cloth around them, and attached three little fangs to the back of each dagger.

He lost track of time while she worked, but by the time she was finished, Dalrus' daggers were nigh unreconizable. Each of them resembled the mandible of a beast, with those yellow gems resembling eyes peering from the shadows. She had even carved what appeared to be ritualistic lines over the flat sides of the blades, which added even more to that... Fearsome look. They also looked much bigger than before, too. The handles were almost twice their original size, and those extra details she had inserted added even more length to the blades, making his weapons resemble short swords rather than knives.

"Much better!" She proudly said as she spun the daggers back and forth over her knuckles. "Now these be decent weapons! Dat's some quality steel you had dere, mon. All it lacked was a little enchanting... And dese bones help a lot, too. I knew keeping these fangs until now would be worth it!"

Dalrus had to hold back the urge to shed a tear as two of his most beloved belongings were soiled beyond use for him. Even if he were to recover those weapons, they were now simply too big and too heavy to ever be effectively used by a human. "Yeah... That's great." He mumbled. "Look, if you don't mind... I think I'm gonna catch some sleep now, alright?"

Watu didn't even look down at him, obviously too proud of her own handiwork. "Sure, whatever, mon. Lay down anywhere, but if you step out of the tent, I'll chop a leg off."

A shiver ran up over his spine. "Duly noted. So, uh... Good night." Too tired for anything wittier, Dalrus laid down on his side with his back turned to his guard, closed his eyes, and almost immediately regretted his decision.

 _"Your chance is here... Seize it! Slay her with the weapons she so foolishly crafted herself! Bathe them in her blood! Then seek their leader, and claim his life as well! Vanquish all your enemies!"_

 _'You know, I kind of liked it better when all you did was try to put me down. Now you're sounding like a psychopath and it's starting to make me feel uncomfortable. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask you to move out of my head.'_

 _"You know you crave it. You want her dead. You hate her, and all her people for what they have done. They want you dead as well. They want to burn your home and kill all you love. Kill them first. Do not give them the chance."_

 _'Yeah yeah that's grand and all but you mind letting me sleep for a bit? Seriously, I won't be able to snap and go on a killing spree if I'm too tired to even lift my arms.'_

 _"The more you avoid us, the closer we get... You cannot run. You know it to be true as well. It is only a matter of time."_

 _'Cool story, mate. Go tell your friends or something, I just want to sleep.'_

 _"The moment approaches... Even you have your limits. And you will reach it... Very soon. This loss is nothing compared to what you have yet to lose..."_

And then he could smell fire.

Dalrus opened his eyes as the cries of the Horde filled the night, a war horn blowing off to the distance.

"THE HUMANS ARE ATTACKING! LOK'TAR, WARRIORS!"


	24. Chapter 24 - Escape

_**Chapter 24 - Escape**_

 _'About bloody time...'_ He thought, not moving. He heard Watu suddenly stand up behind him, then he heard her walking halfway out of the hut they were in. There were many noises outside, mostly from the trolls screaming and getting in position to defend their camp.

Looking over his shoulder, he confirmed the woman had her upper half out of the tent, and he could hear her talking with someone outside. Which meant this was his chance.

While he slept, Dalrus had curled up into a ball on the floor, with his knees pressed against his chest. This meant his hands were in perfect range of his boots. Very careful so he wouldn't make any noise by rattling the chains on his bindings, the boy pulled one of his spare knives from his boot, then quickly held it against his chest, hidden under his arm.

Watu was still exchanging information with an unseen troll outside, and the boy made use of her distraction. The chains were much like everything else in the orc camp; heavy, sturdy and crude. The iron was very solid and thick, meaning there was no way to break them. It quickly became clear their makers never thought about someone picking them open. It also helped that the lock was far bigger than most Dalrus was used to dealing with, which made sense, considering the orcs were beings of larger proportions than the humans. He didn't even need a second pin; he simply slipped the tip of his knife into the lock, closed his eyes, then spun the weapon around until he found the sweet spot. The next thing would be all about timing. Letting out a very loud grunt and spinning around, the metallic clicking noise of his cuffs opening were completely drowned out. He made sure to keep his wrists over his lap and his back turned to Watu as the troll pulled her head back inside of the tent to look down at her prisioner. "What's going on?" Dalrus asked, feigning ignorance.

The woman let out a low grunt as she walked back to the middle of the tent and pulled her spear out of the wall. "Your friends be atacking us. Don't you worry, mon. Nobody is gonna make it all the way here." She then reached up with her weapon, the tip touching a small bag Dalrus hadn't noticed earlier was hanging from the very tip of the pole holding the tent up. She laid it down in front of her, and, peering over, Dalrus noticed inside were some wooden patches of armor. "Either way, it be good to be prepared." Watu proudly declared as she removed her chest wrap and unbuckled her belt.

The boy's eyes went so wide they began to hurt, his mouth hanging slightly agape as he watched the troll woman disrobe in front of him. "Uh..." Was all he could say, his mind feeling like a thunderstorm was raging and throwing all his thoughts in disarray.

Watu was now bent over the bag, rummaging through the bag's contents and pulling out a tribal-looking chest plate, her cleavage dangling in full view of the boy. She then stopped and looked up at him, her expression somewhat grumpy. "What?"

It took him another moment before finally he cleared his throat and managed to form coherent thoughts. "You're naked." Was all he could think of saying, his eyes not averting from her for one second.

The troll simply scoffed, then her focus went back to her armor. Standing up straight, she held it in front of her body for a second as if inspecting it. "Of course, I can't go to battle wearing noting but rags, mon. I need to put on my armor." She then nodded to herself and proceeded to strap the thing to her chest, much to the boy's disarray. But then his eyes shifted back to her lower half, which was also completely bare. "I... Just thought most women would be uncomfortable doing something like this in front of a man." He stated, hypnotized by what he was seeing.

Watu simply shrugged, then pulled out a couple of thick wooden bracers, which she proceeded to strap to her forearms. "A man, maybe. You still be a child, mon. What, did you tink I was presenting myself to you?" She let out a loud, hearty laugh at that. "Don't be ridiculous, mon." Next were shinguards wrapped in what appeared to be a snake's ribcage, and last, what appeared to be a thick leather skirt covered in dangling bone chips all over it's extension. She then put her belt back on, Dalrus' daggers being strapped to it's sides. The boy simply stared, dumbfounded, as she finished putting on her armor, the final touch being a large wooden mask with a long skull painted over it and feather adornations surrounding the crown. "Now you stay down and be quiet." She ordered, hanging the tent's opening to pins around it's sides and standing guard with her back to him, spear in hand.

It took him a few moments to snap back into reality after that. He was suddenly reminded of the situation he was in when he lifted his hand to scratch his cheek and the cuffs fell off his wrist and over his lap. _'Oh. Right. Escape.'_ He leaned backwards, trying to take a look at what was going on outside. He couldn't see much; Watu's tent was right on the edge of the troll camp, and from what he could tell, most of the trolls had left to join the defenses at their main entrance. The moment could not be more perfect.

Just as he was about to begin his escape plan, he hesitated, then looked up. His daggers were both dangling from the troll's hips. It was still a pain in his heart to see what she had done to them, adding those gems and bone teeth to the blades, on top of what appeared to be ritualistic markings. The handles were also far longer now, enough for Dalrus to wrap both hands around of. They had become unusable to him. He would do better leaving them behind.

But then... He was reminded of that day when his master had presented those weapons to him. It was during his first day of training as a rogue, that fateful morning when his father had announced Dalrus' fate to him.

 _"Tell me your name, boy." Master Silvius had said, his cowel pulled over his head as he crossed his arms in front of the little boy who couldn't stop staring at the man's nose. "You don't know my name? Dad didn't tell you?" Dalrus had answered, still trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes as the two of them stood in the middle of the Plaguefang back garden._

 _What came next would be the very first time his master slapped him across the side of his head. "When I ask you something, boy, you do what I tell you instead of talking back with witty quips. Now tell me your name!"_

 _"OUCH!" Dalrus screamed as he fell, rubbing his head and looking up at the mean old man. "You hit me! I'm gonna tell my dad!"_

 _Silvius had then squatted down on the grown, his wrinkly face looming over Dalrus as he scowled. "And I am going to hit you again if you don't learn to behave. Your father asked me to turn you into a rogue, and that's what I'm going to do, even if it means beating the teachings into you. Actually, let me rephrase that._ _ **Especially**_ _if it means beating the teachings into you. Your father doesn't mean a thing while we are together, boy. I am your master. Your teacher. And I will teach you how to be someone of use to your family. Now, say your name!"_

 _Trying to hold back his tears, five year old Dalrus sniffed then looked up at the man. "D-Dalrus. And it's my birthday today..."_

 _"So it is." Silvius said, standing up with a satisfied look on his face. "Now tell me your family name."_

 _"It's Plaguefang." The boy replied, remaining on his knees on the grassy floor._

 _"That's right. You heard what your brother said earlier, didn't you? You know what being the plague means. But now, that's no longer the case. You're a Plaguefang. Which means... We need to give this pup some fangs to bite with." Smirking, his master had then pulled out the two weapons from his cloak; a pair of old looking daggers, with a dark steel jagged blade. "You take good care of these, boy. These weapons have a lot of history behind them. You'll never find better stabbers in your whole damn life."_

 _Still sniffing, Dalrus finally managed to stand up and, with shaky hands, he took the daggers out of his master's hands, then he looked up at him and said: "About time I got my birthday gift! Where's my cake?"_

And that had been the second time his master hit him. Ah, good times.

Snapping out of his flashback, Dalrus sighed to himself, then leaned his head to the side until his neck snapped. He dropped his cuffs against the furs below, always careful not to rattle them and warn Watu about his movements, then, making slightly less noise than a cat without it's claws, he stalked forward and reached out for his first weapon dangling over her right side.

It was hard to tell because of the mask, but he could see Watu's gaze was fixed to a spot to their left, from which the loud noises of an ongoing battle could be heard.

Holding in his breath, Dalrus lifted his spare knife and used it's edge to slowly start to cut the binding holding his weapon to the woman's waist. His movements had to be very precise, but he couldn't afford to be slow. All it would take was her to randomly decided to look at least two of the four cardinal directions and he would be spotted. Fortunately, she seemed to be quite single minded in her watch. It took him less than a minute to loosen the hold on his weapon, a time during which Dalrus had been very careful to hold his dagger with his free hand and, little by little, he applied more and more pressure to it, thus relieving it's weight in a gradual way that the woman didn't notice over time.

Finally, he finished cutting the binding, and his weapon was free. With a sting in his heart, he realized it was far heavier than before, almost twice it's original weight. Those really might as well be short swords now, rather than daggers.

Next was the other one. The woman didn't show signs of noticing him as he got to work, although this was far more tricky. It was directly below her line of sight. It was a real blessing she had chosen to wear the mask, otherwise, he would be within range of her peripheral vision.

This time, his work had to be far slower. If he made a mistake, if he moved a little bit too fast, she would notice. He was still holding his breath, sweat already running down his brow. His arms were burning from all the abuse he had received the past couple of days, but Dalrus was determined. He would not return empty handed.

It felt like he worked on stealing his other dagger back for hours, but, at last, it came free from her belt, and he quickly stepped back, both of his weapons now dangling from his own belt instead. _'Whew... Glad that worked.'_ He thought, watching Watu for a few moments to make sure she was still completely oblivious to the fact she had her weapons stolen right out of her belt. _'Alright, that went well. OK, time for step two.'_ He looked back behind him. Nothing but the tent's fabric surrounding him from all sides. There really was only one way out. Dalrus took in a deep breath.

 _'Hey, babe, you still there?'_

Silence.

 _'Now, look, I know we had our differences, said some harsh things to each other, but you know I still love you, right?'_

No response within his head.

 _'I'm gonna take that as a yes and hope you don't want to see me dead yet.'_

Exhaling through his nose, the young rogue gathered his focus, and began to pull those thin layers of energy off the topmost layers of the void. He really didn't want to take any chances... But he seriously was not in the mood to be hearing more voices, either. To his pleasant surprise, there was nothing. Only his own thoughts within his mind. He took that as a good sign. Looking down, he saw nothing. His stealth had worked. The power of the Shadow was making him completely invisible once more.

That, however, might not be enough for him to simply walk right past Watu. The woman may not be expecting him to walk right past her, but she was also on guard. She was on high alert. Even with his stealth, it was possible for her to take notice of him.

 _'Alright, so, it's just gonna be for a little while now, but I'm gonna be taking a little bit more, OK? Don't start giving me hallucinations or anything.'_

Taking another deep breath, Dalrus enveloped himself with even thicker layers of Shadow energy. Breathing became hard after that, but for the moment, he was absolutely certain he was completely undetectable. Nothing short of directly crashing against the troll would alert her of his presence. And so, not wasting a moment, Dalrus did a low crouch and broke into a sprint, even the wind pressure being completely supressed by his advanced stealth state.

That, of course, didn't last long. Two, maybe three seconds at most. As soon as he felt the burden grow too great for him to bear, Dalrus halted to a complete stop, now right in the middle of the troll camp and a good distance away from his guard, and remained completely still as he felt that thicker veil of Shadow energy washing past his body and leaving him, while he made sure to keep his hold on the thinner layers keeping him hidden from sight.

He looked back over his shoulder. Watu was still staring at the source of the sounds of battle. Dalrus let out a long sigh of relief. It would seem this part of his escape was a success. Now to somehow navigate himself through the Horde camp while the entrances were being disputed.

Fortunately for him, the entire camp was in chaos. Under the watchful gaze of the grunts, the peons were still hard at work carrying resources and bulding or reinforcing structures. He reached the edge of the troll camp, where a single sentinel stood guard over a wooden watch post, staring at the same direction Watu was. Sneaking past him was easy.

Dalrus then found himself right in the middle of the orc camp. He stopped for a moment, then looked around, trying to get his bearings. _'Come on, Dalrus, think. What's the next move?'_ He could see the main halls where he and Thrall had spoken earlier. Over the horizon, the first rays of sunlight were already peeking over, casting some light to the encampment. Time was running out.

" _I should kill the Warchief."_

The words came so naturally, sounding just like his, he almost didn't question them. He blinked, confused.

 _"He is the enemy. Kill him. He wishes to see all you hold dear dead. End him before he can bring you more grief. Then go back and make that woman pay for what she's done to your beloved weapons."_

Dalrus closed his eyes, anger rising within him. _'I am not going to do either of those things. I am going to leave this place and get back to where my brother is waiting for me.'_

 _"He is already dead. Your enemies have taken him from you. Make them pay for their crimes with blood!"_

For the first time, Dalrus was too angry to come up with a witty retort to the dark voices within his head. This time, he didn't even bother. He knew it was not true. It simply wasn't. Felrus wouldn't die like that. With renewed determination, Dalrus made a straight line for the source of the battle noises, approaching the main gates of the Horde camp.

Arriving there, he was surprised to see that the colours of the human attackers were not the dull grey of the Gilneas Brigade, but rather, they all sported an orange banner, and the boy didn't recognize a single one of the people there. He then remembered that his wasn't the only garrison defending the way to Stonetalon Peaks, but only one of four. _'I guess they caught wind of the orcs here and decided to launch an attack of their own.'_ Dalrus thought, making his way to one of the watch towers behind the wall of wooden spikes surrounding the orc camp. Trolls armed with throwing spears as well as orcs holding bows were raining down their deadly bolts down on the attackers.

 _"Kill them. Slaughter every last one of them. Paint the walls with their blood."_

 _'Up yours.'_

Ignoring the voices once more, Dalrus reached the top of the tower, where it's four occupants were too focused on the enemy below to even think someone could sneak up their post. Dalrus readied himself, then ran as fast as he could towards the edge of the tower, surprising one troll who had been about to hurl his spear and making him drop his weapon. Without looking back, Dalrus jumped over the railing, arms and legs spread wide to balance himself in the air as he fell, leaping over the deadly wooden spikes below and landing safely onto the dusty ground after a short barrel roll to break his fall. Looked back over his shoulder, he confirmed that he had successfully managed to leave the Horde camp behind.

To his left, the battle still raged on, although things definitely did not look good for the attackers. Half the force, from what Dalrus could tell, had been decimated already, with little losses on the orc side. It would seem the trolls and the tauren were making a big difference, tipping the battle in the Horde's favour. That, and the watch towers were doing a fine job disrupting the attacker's backline.

The main reason for the Horde's success, however, was, without a doubt, their Warchief leading from the front. Mounted on a huge black wolf, Thrall was a sight to behold. He lifted his hammer above his head, but, instead of bringing it down againt someone's head, the weapon was enveloped by crackling lightning bolts, which then jumped to the nearest human footsoldier before chaning itself to another, and then yet another person after that. Three charred, lifeless corpses fell to the ground. After that, the orc brought his hammer down, and before him, two enormous wolves materialized in a puff of black smoke and crackling energy, the beast's hides a deep shade of purple. Due to the fact Dalrus could see through their bodies, he imagined those creatures were spirits of some sort. That didn't make them any less deadly. The wolves leapt and snarled, fang and claw at work to claim the lives of more members of the Human Expedition.

The battle was as good as lost. Dalrus couldn't bear to watch any more. Averting his gaze, he forced himself to march towards the general direction he remember the Gilneas Brigade was. It wasn't difficult, as they were all generally based around the mountainpass.

As he walked, he could still hear the sounds of battle behind him. But it didn't take long for them to fade off. He didn't look back to confirm if that was because he was out of range... Or because the battle was over.

The sun continued to cast it's rays down upon the arid wastelands of Kalimdor. Stonetalon Peaks loomed over the distance, where most of the Human Expedition camps were established. Directly to the northeast of the main Horde camp, Dalrus noticed, he could see another, far larger camp. This one sported the purple banners of the Warsong clan. Wisely, he decided to stay as clear from that as possible, and continued to make his way northwards.

Soon, however, the morning sunlight began to completely illuminate his path. Now Dalrus could see the land wasn't only cracked ground and rocky formations, but there actually were trees there too. Some of them were quite peculiar. They didn't sport any leaves on them, were compeltely green, jutted straight out of the ground and were completely covered in spikes, most of them not sporting any branches, and those that did usually had two or three at most, those looking more like growths coming out of the trees rather than branches.

His biggest issue, however, was the ravenous, growing hunger assailing him. It had been nearly a full day since his last meal, unless one could count the small drink of water the Warchief had shared with him last night. It was that moment that exhaustion hit the boy like a hammer blow. Suddenly, his legs felt very weak, and he could barely stand. Gasping, he collapsed onto the floor on his hands and legs, his entire body overtaken by a shiver as he tried to get up once more. It looked like his adrenalin rushes had finally worn off, and the full weight of the past twenty four hours were pressing down on him.

He needed a safe place to rest. He could not simply pass out in the middle of those plains, even if he could, somehow, keep his sealth on. Somehow, he managed to hold on to the power of the Void, keeping his body hidden from sight still, just in case someone happened to be scouring the horizon looking for him. Desperate, he looked around himself, trying to find somewhere to use as shelter.

Directly to his right, in the east, was the Warsong camp. To the south, the main Horde camp. TO the north was the promise of salvation and Stonetalon peaks. And to his left, more rocky formations and kilometers upon kilometers of canyons and wastelands.

Moaning in pain, Dalrus forced himself to stand and drag his feet towards the nearest rocks. There were three in total, all of them at least twice his height, all shaped erratically. It would have to do. He would not die here. Not like this. Crawling under the rocks, he found some space in between them where the harsh sunlight couldn't reach him. They were all very hard, rough and not in the least comfortable. But for someone on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, it was all he could possibly ask for. Too tired to even ask the voices in his head to give him some privacy for once, Dalrus' eyes rolled up on his head and he lost consciousness.

 _"Oh, sweetie... You are really pushing things too far like this."_

 _Dalrus moaned, refusing to open his eyes. "Go away... I'm tired..."_

 _"That won't do, dear. You're pushing yourself too far. I warned you about the void. If you keep this up... You'll burn yourself out."_

 _Another moan of protest, the boy still keeping his eyes shut. "Shut up... I just want to rest now..."_

 _"You're tired because you're doing it wrong, sweetie. All you do is pull from the void and wrap it around you like it's a cloth. The Shadow does not work that way. The more you pull, the stronger it's grip over you becomes. It is not like the Light, that willingly blesses one with it's power. To master the power of the shadows, you must truly become one with them, open yourself to it's force, instead of so desperately separated from you like this."_

 _He covered his eyes. "Please... Go away... I can't... I just... This is too much..."_

 _"Power has a price, young Dalrus. Your problem is that you are too willing to pay that price, and ignoring the consequences. You don't need to make this sacrifice. You don't need to play this game by it's rules. You are a rogue. You can find another way."_

 _Unable to take it anymore, he shouted at the top of his lungs: "BUT IF I DON'T PAY THE BLOODY PRICE, EVERYONE ELSE IS DEAD! WHAT'S THE POINT OF KEEPING MYSELF WHOLE THEN?"_

 _"Again, there is your problem, dear. You think the right thing is to sacrifice yourself for the sake of others. But you'll learn... There are other ways of making it happen. I only hope it is not too late by then..."_

Dalrus woke up. It was already dark again.

His body hurt so, so much. His muscles were very sore, and when he lifted his back, the pain that shot through his spine as so great he almost screamed. He rolled off the rocks he had been laying on and fell to the dirty floor below, his whole body trembling. His breath was heavy, and slowly, he lifted his eyes to try and catch his bearings.

It looked as if he slept through the whole day. The moon was high on the sky now, it's pleasant light somehow giving his sore body a little bit of comfort. His stomach was practically rumbling of hunger now, but he managed to ignore it and sat up, his back laying against the rocks. Despite the hunger and the initial soreness, at least now he felt much less tired. The pain was mostly due to his bad sleeping position and spot. That, at least, was a relief.

Now, to plan his next movement. Dalrus calculated his options. He remembered hearing that the Warsong camp was a day's march from the Gilneas Brigade. That, however, wasn't much sollace. Marching meant walking nonstop all day long. Dalrus was starved and sore, not to mention the two enemy camps were right behind him. On top of that, Kalimdor was still host to many deadly creatures, like the centaurs and the harpies. It was foolish to think he could make that trip on his own.

That left him with little choices.

Then, an idea began to creep up in his mind. By now, the main Horde camp would surely have noticed his abscense. They would be on high alert for him. That completely ruled that place out.

On the other hand, the Warsong orcs appeared to be nothing but bloodthirsty brutes who would hack him down at the first opportunity...

But at least they wouldn't be looking for him.

 _'Guess it's all or nothing now.'_ Dalrus throught to himself. Holding back a pained grunt, he stood up, then dedicated about twenty minutes to stretching all of his sore muscles. This gave him even more time to think of a plan.

The Warsong were actively ignoring their Warchief's orders and attacking the human camps. Thrall appeared to be busy fending off attacks against himself. He doubted Hellscream would simply stand down after one battle. Most likely, he would continue his efforts to destroy the Human Expedition.

So, if Dalrus could somehow sneak into one of the attack groups... He was reminded of the catapults from the other day. Hiding one of those things would be quite easy. And once the attack began, he would even be at an advantage point, once the humans left to defend themselves once more. He could help sabotage the weapons, then join the defenders and return to one of the human camps.

A sound plan overall, so long as he was discovered and gutted like a fish first.

 _'Nothing for it, I suppose. Let's go.'_ He thought, steeling himself for what was to come. He began to make his way towards the Warsong camp.

His opportunity, however, arrived much sooner than expected. Just as he was approaching the orc camp, it's gates opened, and what appeared to be a caravan of kodo beasts was making it's way out. They were all heavily packed with provisions, and a huge escort was accompanying them... In fact, it appeared as if every single Warsong orc was making their way.

His heart sank. If they really unleashed such a force against any of the human garrisons, he did not know if they would be able to defend themselves. Things looked quite bad.

He decided to take a closer look. Grunts and wolf riders surrounded the kodos, but in the back, carts presumably filled with provisions were being pulled along as well. Making his way towards one such, the young rogue managed to take a peek inside of the main Warsong camp. The place truly looked completely deserted, with most buildings having been scavenged for their materials. It looked like they fully intended to move someplace else.

As Dalrus approached the caravan, he began to overhear the orcs chatting amongst themselves.

"...A disgrace, is what it is! Why would the Chieftain listen to such orders? We should be joining the main force and cutting down those humans to the last!" One orc wolf rider was speaking from atop it's mount.

His companion, a grunt holding an axe, simply snorted. "Orders are orders. We can't go against the Warchief again. Even the Chieftain says so. WE have to do as we are told."

"Bah!" The wolf rider waved his sword around as if cutting down an imaginary enemy. "To hell with that! I'll follow Chief Hellscream to the depths of the abyss itself! That Thrall is too soft. The Chieftain should be the Warchief, not a weakling who refuses to finish his enemies."

"Shhh!" The grunt looked around nervously, checking for anyone who might be listening in. Of course, he did not notice Dalrus. "You hold that tongue back before someone cuts it off, fool! Either way, the Chieftain decided to obey the Warchief, so we have no choice."

Dalrus was very curious now. Just how long had he been asleep? It would appear Thrall had made contact with Grommash, after all. And now the warmongering orc had been ordered to move, from the looks of things. It looked as if the entire Warsong clan was ready to move out. He decided to inspect the other wagons and kodos closer to confirm his suspicions.

After a few minutes, all doubt as gone. This really was the entirety of the Warsong clan ready to move out. From the camp they were leaving, what hadn't been salvaged for materials had been left behind to rot or destroyed. There were no women or children among them, only hardened male warriors and peons surrounded the kodo beasts and loaded the carts with provisions for the journey. Dalrus made his way towards one such wagon at the very rear of the caravan, and peeked inside.

What he saw made his heart flutter and his stomach churn.

Food. Food and water. Fruit, dried meat, flasks and sacks full of water, animal hides... All sorts of provisions filled the cart's floor, walls and ceiling. Desperate and starved as he was, the boy did not think twice before hopping inside of the wagon as soon as the nearby peons turned their backs on it to go gather more sacks full of food. Hiding behind one such sack - a particularly large one, at that - the boy slipped his hand inside so he could fish out one of it's contents. It was to his great delight that he found a thick, ripe apple, which he immediately sunk his teeth into, having to hold his breath in order to surpress a moan of delight. He simply sat there, eyes close, basking in the blissful sensation of that cool juice filling his mouth as he chewed, and, because of that, he failed to notice when the orcs sealed the wagon's doors behind him with a huge, heavy iron lock. It wasn't until he had feasted on half a dozen more apples and the order was given for the caravan to begin it's journey that Dalrus realised he was trapped there. He gripped helplessly at the bars of his unintended cage and peered down at the orc guards who were unwittingly escorting the young rogue. "Oh, brother... I hope master Silvius never hears about this."


	25. Chapter 25 - Transition

**Chapter 25 - Transition**

Dalrus had hoped at some point during their journey, the orcs would stop and use the supplies in the wagon he was currently trapped inside, thus giving him a chance to escape. He very soon learned that was a vain hope. Apparently, his particular wagon was the one with the long term meals, with the most perishible ones being kept closer to the middle of the caravan, and thus, his would probably be the last one to be opened up, if at all, before they reached their destination.

For what it was worth, however, the orcs were pretty damn good when it came to travelling. They did not take a single break on their first day of travel, with rations being distributed among the warriors and peons to eat while they walked along the day. Dalrus came to realize they truly were a hardened, brutal species, who were well adjusted to harsh conditions and long trips. On that very first day, they were targeted by more than one group of locals; centaurs, the savage quillbeasts - humanoid pig men - and, of course, the ever present harpies. Watching the orcs fight was almost a spectacle. Down to the very last man, they were all fierce and fearless. No wonder their majority didn't wear any armor. For such brave fighters, that would just be dead weight. Dalrus even saw one crush a centaur's head with his bare hands.

The grunts didn't talk much among themselves. They all appeared to have a grim determination to them, one that didn't require words. Dalrus was left with nothing to do but create a makeshift bed with the animal hides inside the wagon and take the time to rest himself. There was no way to pick the lock; it was out of his reach. Nor could he cut his way through the planks inside the wagon, as not only would that take too long, there was a very real chance anyone could decide to check on the wagon or take notice of all the sawdust.

Most of all, however, Dalrus hadn't realized just how tired he was until he had this time to truly lay back and rest. The moment his back touched the furs underneath, he never wanted to stand up again. He almost passed out like he had the other day, but he forced himself to remain awake, lest someone walk in on the stowaway taking a nap inside their food cart.

And so, for that time, he decided to spend some time to collect his thoughts, gather some information and mourn the loss of his beloved daggers. He spent a long time simply holding the blades in his arms, trying to think of a way he could revert them to their original state... But he did not know the first thing about blacksmithing. With his back against the wagon's wall, he hoisted one wapon up in his right arm. It was definitely much heavier than before, and in total, it was almost twice it's original length. His daggers were just a couple fingers short of being oficially swords. Sure, he could hold and swing them around, but not nearly as deftly as he could before. He gave it a couple swings in front of him, then sighed and laid them over his lap. This would take some getting used to... But maybe he could make it work. He was reminded of his training all those years ago, when his master presented the boy with a pair of short swords for training that day. Dalrus was eight then.

 _"What am I supposed to do with these?" The boy had inquired as he struggled to hold both the blunt training weapons up._

 _"Defend yourself or die, boy. Whichever you think more convenient." Master Silvious had said before he brought his own weapon - which was a wooden variant of Dalrus' iron ones - down against the boy's scalp. "Come on! Dodge, or block!"_

 _"I can't, these are too bloody heavy!" Dalrus complained as he tried to hold the weapons up in front of him. HIs master easily landed another blow, to his leg this time._

 _"Stop complaining and get to work! You'll think you'll always have daggers dangling on your belt for your convenience? Let me teach you something, boy. You know what is one of the cheapest and most common weapons for a soldier to carry around?"_

 _"Spears?"_

 _"You'd think, but no. A short, one handed sword is the most common thing to find hanging from a soldier's belt. In a real battle, I guarantee the majority of fighters will be waving a slab of iron with a sharpened edge like they are desperate to chop wood. And that's why you need to learn to hold and swing one of these around. Odds are if you are ever in a need to pick a random weapon off the ground, it will be one of these."_

And for years to come, Dalrus always wondered why common soldiers weren't taught to use a tiny piece of sharp iron attached to a long stick instead of waving a sword around. It always seemed to be far more cost effective to him. For one, spears were perfect for defending or attacking, as they could keep an enemy at a distace. They were very cheap and easy to manufacture, too. And anyone could learn how to use one; just keep the pointy end pointed at your enemy and poke them if they come too close. What's so complicated about that? No, instead, his master forced him to endure weekly, rigorous training sessions to hold short swords, not just with his right hand, but his left one too. In fact, making the boy ambidextrious had been one of the very first things his master had focused on.

As he reminisced, Dalrus lifted his 'daggers' once again. He had often compared the weapons to short swords now, given their new feel... Maybe he wasn't off the mark with his metaphor. Perhaps he really should see them under this light instead.

Standing up, he held one of the blades above his shoulder, then brought it down in an arc in front of him. There was almost no whistle as the dark blade weaved through the air. The weight was decent enough that he could change the trajectory should he need to, while being heavy enough to cut through some lighter armour his daggers previously couldn't.

He was never a fan of dueling or fencing. He had made the mistake of sparring with his brother once, and even though Felrus had only one sword in hand, Dalrus was the one with his face on the floor three times in a row. Blocking, slashing, hacking... Such confusing, needless concepts. Better to wait for the opportunity to unleash a devastating blow from the darkness instead of facing someone head-on. That had been what had gotten him in that situation in the first place; trying to joust against Grommash godsdamned Hellscream.

Still... It was better than nothing, at his present condition. For the next few hours, as the wagon was carried onwards and the sun began to set in the horizon, Dalrus continued to practice his combat skills, training against invisible foes within the confined space of his improvised prision. By the time the moon was high on the sky, his arms were sore from having to wave that unfamiliar weight around, but at least he was growing more accostumed to it. Satisfied, he strapped the weapons to his waist and fished for another apple from the sack. That was when he heard a couple familiar voices outside.

..."Nothing but pigmen, bird women and those blasted centaurs. My axe is going to rust like this."

"Yes, at least the humans stood a chance of making you bleed before being cut down. Remember that boy the other day? The one who was fighting the chieftain? I heard after being taken prisioner, he managed to escape the warchief's camp."

Even though most orcs had very similar voices - all weighed down by a gutural-like growling, a trait particularly noticeable amongst the Warsong orcs - he thought these two were the same he heard complaining about Thrall earlier. Leaning against that side of the cart, he closed his eyes to pay better attention.

"Yes. First he denies the chieftain his kill, and then he manages to lose a prisioner. As if that weren't enough, he said it was Hellscream's fault that the humans attacked us in the first place, and that allowed the prisioner to escape! And worst of all, he even ordered us to go to these damned forests in the north and swing our axes at trees instead of foes."

Dalrus heard someone spitting. "Pah! The chieftain can only tolerate so much. I want to see how long it will take before he decides to take the mantle of Warchief himself. If he asked me, I'd gladly murder that blue-eyed, soft skinned traitor mysel-"

His next words were muffled as Dalrus heard something big and heavy swinging through the air. The next thing he heard was a loud splatter against the wagon he was trapped inside of, and something big and round falling against the floor, soon followed by something much bigger and heavier.

"Is anyone else dissatisfied with our Warchief?" He heard Grommash's unmistakeable voice booming. "By all means, step up now and voice yout concerns! Gorehowl will gladly show you what happens to traitors of the Horde!"

"Ch-chieftain!" He heard the first orc's voice trembling with fear. "No, you got it all wrong! We would never disobbey you! A-any one of us down to the last man will follow your orders! W-we just thought you were a greater leader..."

Dalrus didn't need his ears to know what would happen next. He could almost picture it in his head as the leader of the Warsong brought his weapon down another time. "I will not hear any more of this treacherous talk! Thrall is our Warchief! You mongrels know damned well why I could not take the seat! He... Thrall was right, and I'll be a damned fool if I try to deny it. The ancient demon blood than ran through our veins stirrs once more... And that is a liability. Once, we allowed ourselves to be the slaves of the demons. We allowed ourselves to succumb to their will, and that cost us our world, and our home. But then we fought for our freedom from that crazed bloodlust, and I refuse to allow it to control my thoughts again! Thrall saved us from that emptiness that is worse than death itself! Listen to me, orcs! We are free from the demon's corruption! We are our own masters! And the Warchief will make our Horde greater than it ever was! For he has something even I lack. Thrall knows compassion... And he has shown me that is no weakness. He has shown me that can be a powerfull tool in the hands of a leader. So I will trust him with my life, and the whole sorry lot of you better do the same! Understood?"

The rest of the Warsong clan let out cheers for their chieftain, and Dalrus was left alone with his thoughts, and the knowledge that despite this little speech about compassion, the fact was that Grommash Hellscream hadn't even hesitated when executing these two subordinates of his.

 _"Feeling better, dear?"_

 _..."Well, at least your voice is better than the other guy. Our relationship has been a little complicated lately. Between you and me, at first I thought he was interested in my personality, but now I'm starting to think he only wants me for my body."_

 _"I did warn you about delving to deep into the Void, my poor, clueless student. I can help hold the Shadow at bay for a while, but if you continue using it like you have, you'll consume yourself, like a flame burning a candle. And I'm afraid that's all the help I can give you now. The rest is up to you."_

 _"Yeah, that's fine and all... But none of that will matter if the Burning Legion kills everyone and salts the ground afterwards."_

There was no response this time.

Only darkness.

Only silence.

He wondered how his brother was doing.

During that night, the Warsong made a quick, brief stop to allow their kodos to rest and eat. Marching resumed as soon as the sun began to rise over Stonetalon peaks, now way far in the distance.

They travelled all day long uninterrupted. The caravan didn't even stop when they were attacked again. Dalrus could hear Hellscream's battle cries as he hacked anything foolish enough to come close to them to pieces.

Overnight, Dalrus' soreness and exhausting were almost completely cured. Rest, shade and good food had many perks, it would seem. During this time he continued to practice his dual swordsmanship, and tried to pay attention to what the orcs would chat amongst themselves.

After the little display the previous night, no one dared to speak against Thrall's decision. Even so, Dalrus heard enough to deduce the story. It would seem Grommash, against Thrall's orders, continued to attack not one, but eventually, all of the human settlements on the way to Stonetalon peaks. With little alternative, Thrall devised a plan to hire local goblin zepellins to transport them to the mountain peaks. He had berated Grommash on his foolish behavior, and as punishment, the Warsong were to travel north to Ashenvale forest, where they were tasked with building a settlement for the Horde.

Not only that, but he was also able to piece together a little bit more about the orcs themselves. Apparently, they came from a place called 'Draenor' (no idea where that was) and had arrived by crossing 'the dark portal' (no idea where that was either). Also apparently, their home world had been almost completely destroyed by the warlocks and their fel magic, and thus the Horde was forced find a new home upon Azeroth.

Dalrus wasn't sure what to make with that information. That was certainly a good enough excuse to try and find a new home, but it definitely was no justification to that senseless slaughter that the two previous wars had originated. The orcs hadn't come simply to flee from certain death; they had also brought it with them. They never even attempted diplomacy, but instead, had gone straight to murdering everyone in their wake as they began to spread throughout the Eastern Kingdoms. Only now did the Horde seem to have a leader more keen on talking rather than fighting, but even so, Thrall had been quick to fight when the battle began. The Warchief desired peace, yes, but he did not hesitate to take arms when the moment needed it.

All that left Dalrus a little sad. These Warsong orcs appeared to be the very depiction of the orc stereorype he had heard about his entire life; brute, savage and murderous. Thrall had given him hope that maybe that endless cycle of war could end. But maybe he was wrong. Old hatreds didn't just up and vanish like that. Those wounds would take a long time to heal.

The second day ended on a gloom note, as Dalrus was left alone with his thoughts and his personal weapons practice. When the third day came, however... As Dalrus opened his eyes and took in his first breath, he was surprised. What he inhaled was not that hot, dusty air he had grown accostumed to... This one felt so much more... _Fresh._ Pure. Clean. He opened his eyes, stood up and peered over the grates of his unintended cage.

Before the caravan was a huge extension of the tallest and most beautiful trees Dalrus had ever laid eyes upon. But that wasn't all... There was something almost... Mystic about this forest. Ancient. Far more ancient he could wrap his mind around. He could sense... A presence. Something primal. Similar to what he felt when he was alone with Thrall the other night. Like nature itself was a living creature laying in front of him, it's breath washing over his entire being. It was a little overwhelming, at first. He could only imagine what the orcs must be thinking before this gorgeous sight.

"Finally! Unload the axes, it's time to chop some wood!"

It would take a long time for Dalrus' palmprint to leave his face after hearing that.


	26. Chapter 26 - Spirits of Ashenvale

**Chapter 26 - The spirits of Ashenvale**

The following days were full of hard work from the orcs. As soon as they arrived at the forest, they had immediately drawn their axes and began taking down the trees to build their new settlement. In no time they had new barracks, war mills, watch towers and great halls erected.

Dalrus was absolutely apalled by how they could simply chop down those trees one after another without a single care in their minds. He didn't doubt most of those were probably older than all the orcs there combined. And yet within two days they had deforested a large enough portion to establish a base.

During this time, Dalrus had finally managed to enjoy some freedom from his improvised cage. It had been a simple matter of sneaking out as soon as the doors were open, then making his way into the woods surrounding the area, away from the main orc base camp.

Ashenvale forest was simply breath taking. The arid wastelands of Kalimdor were still within sight behind him, and it was quite fun to observe the sharp contrast of the dry, sandy lands they had just traversed and the lush green trees that spread as far as the eye could see before him.

And then there was that... Feeling. That sensation. Like him and the orcs weren't alone there. Something... Or someone... Else was there. And Dalrus wasn't referring to the small group of goblins he had discovered not too far from the orc camp. Something ancient lurked in this forest. As if the trees themselves carried spirits within them, harvesting their energy and flowing back into the lands below.

He had never seen grass so green his entire life. Water so pure and clean. Insects buzzing around the bushes and the foliage above, tiny critters running along the woods, and some local indigenous creatures that looked like bears constantly walking on two feet who wore tribal-looking feathers and amulets over their hulking bodies.

During that time, Dalrus meditated on his predicament. There was no possible way for him to make his journey back on his own. It had taken several days of very intense voyage to arrive at this spot. During this time, he was certain the Human Alliance had relocated their bases someplace else, and he had no idea where that could be. So, for the moment, the only move he could make was wait and see, hoping that he would get some information regarding the Gilneas Brigade. Perhaps the main force of the Horde would request backup, and the Warsong would mobilize again? Until such a happy time, all the young rogue could do was sneak around the orc camp unseen and loiter on the gorgeous treetops - until the lumber harvesters came too close, that was.

It was on his third day that Dalrus made a discovery that would change his life forever. Or, more specifically, very late at night, when the moon was high and bright in the sky, as it always seemed to be in Kalimdor.

As he was taking a long and relaxing walk through the woods, Dalrus heard the sound of falling water. He calculated that was most likely a waterfal, so the boy began to make his way there, curious and thirsty. As he came closer and closer to the source of that serene sound, the trees and the bushes got thicker and thicker, forming a sorts of natural barrier around it. A little annoyed, he ducked down and began to crawl his way through the bushes, until, finally, he emerged on the other side and was greeted with a vision that would be forever branded into his memory.

Surely enough, there was the waterfal. A small cliff composed of glistening gray stones with a steady stream of Ashenvale's crystaline water pouring down it's middle, with rocky shores and tall trees surrounding it had formed a little lake. And on that lake, bathing, were three of the most exotic and beautiful women Dalrus had ever laid eyes upon.

They all sported skin that was a deep shade of violet, or varying tones of that color. Their ears were enormous and pointy, much like the high elves Dalrus had met in the Human Expedition camp. These women, however, were much taller than the high elves. Their hair were also different shades of blue and green. Dalrus could see their eyes were bright glowing orbs, like little stars over their beautiful faces. A couple of them sported tattoos in the shape of red and white stripes over their cheeks and eyes. And then there were those freakishly long eyebrows sticking out the sides of their faces (seriously, what was up with that?). All this, Dalrus took notice, before his eyes fell upon their naked bodies, his jaw dropping. They were all absolutely fit and athletic, like soldiers.

He remained there for what felt an eternity, dumbfolded by what he was seeing and wondering that was a dream. They hadn't noticed him yet, as the young rogue was in still partially hidden under the trees and the bushes and hadn't moved an inch since arriving there. Suddenly, he heard one of them say something. It was similar to what he had heard Lyafra say to her friends back in their base camp. And then they were all laughing. A sweet, melodious sound that seemed to make the very stars above shine brighter. He found himself with a silly smile despite himself.

Then, movement. He heard branches and leaves rustling to his right. Instinctively, Dalrus activated his stealth and lowered his chin to the floor, remaining completely still. With gracious steps as if she were a dancer, a fourth of those strange elves walked into the scene, only a few paces from where the stealthy peeper was hiding. This one, however, was wearing a long cloak, and carried a large quiver over her back with an elegant wooden bow behind held in her left hand. He heard this new one say something in elvish, and the three bathing girls nodded and proceeded to walk towards the shore, where, Dalrus had completely failed to notice, their weapons and clothing lay - bows, quivers, cloaks and robes, all matching.

Dalrus watched as the woman dried themselves, then put on their armor and robes before picking up their weapons and walking out with the newcomer. In the distance, he heard the loud chirp of an owl, and suddenly snapped back to reality. _'Oh I just gotta see more of this.'_ He eagerly thought to himself as, still stealthed, he rushed from his spot and followed after the women.

However, for the first time in his life, Dalrus found himself unable to track someone.

It was as if they had disappeared as soon as they walked into the forests. There weren't even tracks to follow on the ground. No broken branches, no footprints, not even the soothing sound of their voices to follow. They were simply... Gone.

Dalrus was baffled. He pondered if he had really seen all this, or maybe this had all been some kind of dream... Or a delusion. It was very late, after all. Sighing, the boy shook his head, and began to tread back towards the orc camp.

That night, he ended up having to sleep among the woods, as it would probably be too dangerous to traverse the forests at night alone, no matter how good he was at stealth. As morning came and the sun rose, Dalrus leapt down from the improvised nest he had built with leaves and branches over a particularly thick branch of a tree and proceeded with his return to the Warsong camp.

The sun was almost setting again when he made it there, feeling quite famished after the long walk... What he saw, however, made him lose all appetite.

The orcs were engaged in battle against those women he had seen earlier.

There was a war mill nearby, where the orc peons were currently utilizing to stockpile lumber to build the rest of the base. And surrounding it were those women. He spotted the cloaked archers he had met earlier, as well as more armored ones riding what appeared to be gigantic black cats as big as the wolves the orc raiders possessed. He even spotted some elves in the air, riding the most bizarre creatures Dalrus had ever laid eyes upon. They have the body of horses, but their heads sported huge beaks and antlers, and the also had wings on their backs, with their knights raining deadly arrows at the green-skinned enemies below.

The fierce howls of Grommash filled the air as he ran forward and swinged his axe against the closest grounded elf, the rest of his warriors following suit and attacking the woman any way they could, with axes, javelins and even nets. Dalrus had expected this to be a one sided massacre... After all, how could a bunch of women with nothing but bows, arrows and what appeared to be a steel disk with spikes coming out of it hope to face not just the orcish horde, but the feared Warsong clan?

It was much to his surprise - and probably Grommash's as well - that not only were the women successful in deftly evading most of the orc blows, they were suddenly armed with small, short blades and hacking down the orc grunts and raiders with ferocity to match their foes. Surely enough, they were having losses... But so were the orcs. The battle was a long and fierce one... But ultimately, the orcs were victorious, as the women suddenly began to retreat and vanish into the woods, with only a handful of them left behind, dead.

Dalrus did not know what to do. Who were they? Where had they come from? Why were they attacking the orcs? It would seem the horde was just as confused as he was in that matter, if the complaints from the grunts and the harsh responses from their chieftain were any indication. Whatever this was, Dalrus thought, it was definitely not over.

The defenses on the camp were fortified, especially as more and more lumber was harvested. Dalrus noticed Grommash had made contact with the goblins he had spotted the other day, and some deal seemed to have been made, since he also noticed a few goblins riding gigantic metal suits armed with buzz saws that could cut the trees down almost as easily as Hellscream cut enemies down in battle.

But each time this happened, Dalrus noticed... For every tree that fell, it was almost as if the land itself was grieving. Recoiling in pain, but unable to react. It was later that night when the second elf attack came. This time, they brought a new kind of weapon; a wooden contraption that looked like an enormous bow with bolts as large as a person and wheels so it could be moved around. He recognized them as some kind of siege weapon, as the bolts had tremendous reach and caused some serious damage when they laded upon the orc war mills. Screaming his challenge, Grommash rushed to meet his foes, but as soon as the horde began to advance, the attackers retreated yet again.

"Warchief! We can't follow them!" One grunt was saying. "These warrior women are using the trees to vanish! Not even the wolves can track them in there."

"THEN WE SHALL CUT DOWN THE TREES TO THE LAST AND FLUSH THEM OUT OF THEIR HIDING!" Grommash had responded, then made a hand signal. "BRING THE CATAPULTS! I DON'T CARE IF IT'S A WASTE, BURN THE TREES DOWN AND SMOKE THEM OUT! FIND WHERE THEY ARE AND SLAUGHTER THEM TO THE LAST!"

He thought he had been appaled by the lengths these orcs were willing to go before, but even this caught him by surprise. The orc catapults fired their smoldering boulders down against the trees, clearing a path for the horde to advance upon within the hour as the goblin harvesters salvaged whatever lumber they could get ther mechanical hands on.

Dalrus himself was very curious about where this would lead... But he wasn't sure if he wanted to help those women. Sure, they looked like the elves... Somewhat. But who were they? What did they want? Were they enemies of the Human Expedition as well? The other night, he had thought them innocent dwellers of the woods... But the ferocity they had displayed during their attacks against the orcs had proven him otherwise. Even more so as, several times over, they ambushed the advancing wave of destruction Grommash was unleashing with lighting fast hit and run tactics that ravaged their catapults and left many orc warriors dead. Still, Grommash would not relent. They had more than enough material to replace the catapults destroyed, and his warriors didn't seem to lose any morale over their companion's deaths.

It was then that Dalrus made a decision. Determined, the rogue activated his stealth and ran ahead of the trail of destruction the horde was creating, waiting for the next elf attack. He almost missed it when it happened, so apt they were in moving through those woods unseen like he was doing. This time, however, when they began to retreat, Dalrus focused his attention and managed to make out the path they were following as they retreated under the curses of the Warsong Chieftan.

And that was how he found their base. Yet again, the sight left him dumbfolded and wodering if he had walked into a dream.

There was a clearing in the woods... If you could call it that. All over the place were trees... But trees unlike any Dalrus had ever laid eyes upon. They looked like they had... Faces. With eyes. Mouths. And branches that looked like arms hanging over their sides. And in the center of it all, a gigantic tree, bigger than any other, literally brimming with some sort of... Natural, life-filled energy in the shape of a golden glitter flying back and forth over the branches.

There were also strange wells with little altars around them, the water within emanating a strange glow that reminded Dalrus of the moonlight. The women seemed to be gathering around those, many of them kneeling in prayer. He heard the word 'Elune' repeated several times as he began to sneak his way inside the camp.

Eventually, he reached what looked like the only building in that place that wasn't alive. It was a wide, purple lodge, and within, many of those warrior women were looking at a map and discussing what Dalrus assumed were battle tactics to fend off the orcs. As he came closer for a better look, he was pleasantly surprised to see they were speaking common, for once.

"...Since the old days of the Burning Legion." One woman whom Dalrus assumed was their commander was saying. "In just these few days they have decimated a large portion of the forest, and now those savages march towards us bringing flame and destruction in their wake with no regard for nature."

Another one of them let out a deep sigh, then nodded. "Indeed... Our scouting parties are not enough to hold them back. No matter how many we kill, they are relentless in their advance. It is only a matter of time before they arrive here... And I have no doubt they will aim for the Tree of Life itself."

"It must not come to that!" The first one suddenly said, her fist slamming against the table. "How dare they desecrate our sacred grove! The forest weeps with their crimes. Before long, even Cenarius himself will come deliver them the divine punishment they deserve. We need only hold fast, sisters. Elune is with us. We must protect the forests at all cost."

 _'Who the bloody hell is Elune?'_ Dalrus pondered, stroking his chin. It was that moment that a horn was sounded in the distance, soon followed by the unmistakeable noise of the Horde's war machines mowing down everything in their path as they approached the camp.

"Already? Oh, mother moon..." One of the elves in the cabin said, her hands covering her mouth. "What shall we do? We cannot stop them...!"

"Silence, Lyaera! We must stop them, or die trying! Ana'doreini talah! To arms, sisters!" The commander shouted the words, followed by war cries from the rest of them as they all picked up their bows and ran towards the edge of the camp where Grommash and his orcs were approaching from. Dalrus saw as that one elf who had voiced her despair - either her name was Lyaera or that was another insult in elven - hesitate for a moment. Her hands were trembling, her violet face had gone pale, and her eyes were very wide. He then saw her pull a little amulet from her robes - it looked like a blue crystal shaped like a half moon. "Elune, please... Give me strength..." She whispered, then tucked the amulet back in and followed her sisters to battle.

To her death.

Dalrus didn't know what to do. Those elves were doomed. There was no way their magical living trees could stop the Warsong. Sure, they were fierce fighters... But a cunning fish cannot outmatch an entire school of sharks. There was simply no stopping the axe from falling upon them.

To their merit... The elves did not relent in their defense. As soon as the Horde showed up over the fallen, burning trees, those strange trees suddenly came to life, some of them actually uprooting themselves from the earth and growing legs to engage the orcs. The elves themselves were just as determined in their fight, facing the horde head-on without a hint of fear in their hearts. Alas, it was to no avail. Sure, they did a fine job at halting the orcs... But only temporarily. The fire spread, and one by one, those living trees, the ancients, fell, only to be mercilessly chopped down and harvested for their wood. Dalrus watched as the warrior women were cut down one by one, almost like the forest they were so desperate to protect. Before long... There was only a small regimen of them with their backs against the greatest ancient of all, whom they had earlier referred to as the "Tree of Life."

"You fought well, for a bunch of armed women." Grommash said, his face twisted into a sadistic grin of mockery. "It was a good battle. You have earned honorable deaths. At the vey least, I will spare you the sight of your beloved trees being brought down to build our own bases."

Among the elves that had survived to the end was the captain from earlier. With a fearless expression on her hooded face, the woman stepped forward and spat towards the orc chieftain. "You know not what you have wrought upon yourself today, brute. You may claim our lives and scar the land, but the forest shall never surrender to the likes of you. Today you have incurred the wrath of nature. And that is battle a savage like you could never hope to win. Andu-falah-dor!" Her fellow elves all shouted in response, then drew her bows and began to let loose their arrows as Grommash simply laughed, then gave the signal for his warriors to advance. "The nature is nothing more than timber to be harvested, woman. I will not be stopped by a bunch of trees, nor the women protecting them."

Dalrus couldn't bear to watch. The entire fight he had been hiding on the tree tops surrounding the elven camp, and now he was just behind the tree of life as the elves made their last stand against the Warsong. He closed his eyes, but couldn't drown out the screams. The elves fought valiantly to the end... But alas. Their end was inevitable.

 _All life ends. Even nature will one day rot and wither. You cannot escape the cycle. You too will one day be consumed. It is only a matter of time._

 _"Please, keep talking. At least your annoying voice drowns out everything else."_

Gritting his teeth, Dalrus turned away and began to walk a little further into the woods to try and leave all that savagery and death behind him... Only to suddenly hear sobbing. Confused, he looked around, and tried to follow the source of those choked, painful gasps. After a while, he began to hear a voice as well. "No... They are dead. They have all fallen... And I have abandoned them. Elune help me, why... Why did this have to happen... Who are they... Why are they here... What should I do..."

Dalrus recognized it as the hesitant elf he had heard earlier. Slowly he came closer and closer to the source of the voice... Until he spotted the woman slumped down against a tree, her face in her gloved hands as she sobbed and whimpered uncontrollably. "I don't want to die... Mother moon save me, I don't want to die... I don't want to see the forest in pain... What should I do? Cenarius, guide me... Elune, give me strength, I beg you... Oh, my sisters... My sisters...!"

His heart racing in his chest, Dalrus found himself once more with no idea on how to proceed. Should he say something? Should he help her? But what could he do? If the orcs came this way, there was no way they would not find her... Then what? Would she be a prisioner? Unlikely. The Warsong didn't seem the type to take in prisioners.

He heard more rustling from behind him. Perking up, Dalrus looked over his shoulder, then upwards. The tree the elf was crying against had some low, thick branches. The boy shadow stepped on top of one, then squinted, trying to get a look of who was approaching.

A pair of orc grunts were making their way over the woods, axes in hand. "I'm telling you I saw some of them coming this way. Cowards. A true warrior fights to the end. I'm glad we are finally putting their base to the torch. I was sick of their honorless tactics. The only way to fight is by coming to your enemy from the front, not the back and the sides before running away with your tail between your legs!"

His friend grunted in agreement. "I'm gonna enjoy hunting the rest of them down. They killed many of my friends back there. I won't rest until my axe is wet with more of their blood!"

Dalrus' heart sunk. He looked back down at the desperate elf who was too lost in her grief to notice the two grunts coming her way. _'What do I do? Should I divert them? Kill them? But I can't let them know I'm here... Oh man'_ Biting on his lip nervously, he looked around for anything he could use to distract the orcs... But it was too late. They had already heard the crying. Grinning to each other, they began to move closer and closer to where they were.

Dalrus looked down at his waist. He was still carrying his weapons... The daggers that had become a pair of short swords against his will. _'Oh bugger me... Why can't I ever just mind my own business?'_ He thought with an internal sigh as he pulled them from his belt and held one in each hand. _'You'd think after last time I risked my life to save someone I'd have learned my lesson.'_

The orcs were so close she noticed them now. He saw the woman lift her head, and suddenly realized she was one of the bathing girls he had found the previous night - the one with the red tattoos over her brows and cheeks. He saw her entire body shake violently as she clumsily reached down for her bow and pulled an arrow against the string, then she got up and walked a few steps back.

The orcs emerged one from each side of the tree. The woman let go of the arrow, and it flew towards one of her attackers, hitting one in the arm. The grunt let out a scream of pain and rage, and his friend let out a savage howl and ran towards his helpless prey, those bright, glowing eyes of her that resembled starts suddenly clouded by fear.

The grunt lifted his axe. Then he brought it down.

The metallic noise of his blade hitting Dalrus' crossed daggers echoed in the woods around them, but was ultimately drowned out by the victorious screams of the rest of the Warsong cutting down the Tree of Life far behind them.

"What the... A human? Here?" The orc was absolutely perplexed, seeing his weapon parried by Dalrus'. "Where did you come from?"

"A nice place on the seaside. Now go to hell." Dalrus practically snarled his reply, then, with a little sidstep, one of his blades slid down along the length of the orc's axe, the other one leaning to the side so it would push the blade and make it fall harmlessly to the side of his body - and the elven girl behind him. His first blade reached the orc's grip, and three thick, stubby green fingers were suddenly flying through the air before they fell on the muddy floor below.

The orc let out a scream of pain, his axe falling to the floor as he grabbed his maimed haind. Dalrus took the opportuinty to bring one of his daggers - although it was more apt to call them swords now, perhaps - against the orc's neck. A clean cut sliced his throat wide open, and blood began to gush out os the grunt choked for a few moments before his corpse fell on the floor.

"I'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE FOR THIS, HUMAN DOG! LOK'TAR OGAR!" The first grunt screamed and charged at Dalrus, his arrow wound all but forgotten as he lifted the axe above his head with both arms.

Dalrus ducked into a low crouch. His... Swords were too large for him to use his shadowstrike. So he'd have to think of something else. Something more... Sinister.

Dalrus feinted to the right, then suddenly struck from the left. The grunt, however, saw through his maneuver, and with a wide swing of his axe, he managed to keep Dalrus away from him. The boy had to do a barrel roll over the ground and gain some distance from his foe so he wouldn't lose his head with the attack.

The orc slammed his fist against his chest. "FOR THE WARSONG!" He screamed once more, then charged at Dalrus again. This time, he stood his ground, blades at ready, waiting for the grunt to get closer...

And suddenly the orc slumped over and fell before the boy's feet, an arrow sticking out the back of his neck. Behind him, Dalrus saw the elf standing there, her bow still held high and her hand shaking, in the same shape she had used to pull the arrow that had just ended the orc's life.

With a sigh of relief, Dalrus lowered his swords and nodded at her. "Thanks, I was about to do something I wouldn't be very proud of..." He then began to walk towards her. "But there could still be more on their way, so we should-"

He stopped short when suddenly the woman dropped her bow and pulled out a thin, long silver sword from her cloak, the tip trembling and pointed towards Dalrus. "S-stay back, defiler! You will not... I won't let you corrupt the forests any further!"

Her eyes were completely wide, her brows were furrowed, and Dalrus could still see the wet smudges of her tears staining her cheeks. Her breath was heavy and erratic, and her legs were also shaking under her. Slowly, the boy bent his knees until he could drop his swords on the floor, then lifted his hands to show he was unarmed. "I'm not going to hurt you, or the forest. I want to help you."

"L-lies! You outsiders... You did all this! You cut down our sacred woods, and you killed my sisters! I will never forgive you for what you've done!" More tears were forming on the corners of her eyes, and, with a grief-filled yell, the elf charged at Dalrus, blade pointed at his chest.

It was so easy, he could have done it without even noticing. He ducked under the blade's tip, then grabbed the woman by her wrist and the collar of her tunic before slamming his shoulder against her gut and tossing her over his head. The woman lost her grip on her weapon and fell heavily on her back against the floor under behind him. Dalrus sighed. "I'm telling you, I'm not gonna hurt you. Those people are my enemies as well, OK? I just want to try and save you."

The woman let out a pained grunt, then suddenly spun around and got up a few paces away from him... Before letting out a gasp and falling to one knee as she held her side. Dalrus noticed her tunic was dark and wet there... She was bleeding.

"Woah, sorry! I didn't know you were... Look, let me help you..." He began to say, once more stepping towards her, only for the woman to suddenly reach for Dalrus' own weapons he had dropped earlier and holding them before her body. "I won't... You're not gonna... Elune... Save me..." And they he saw her eyes roll up as they closed and she collapsed against the ground.

 _'Well... At least, this should make things easier.'_ The young rogue thought to himself as he retrieved his weapons, then - with great effort - picked fainted woman up in his arms and did his best to carry her away from the blood thirsty orcs still harvesting the wood from an ancient magical living tree behind them.


	27. Chapter 27 - The worth of a life

**Chapter 27 - The worth of a life**

Carrying an unconscious woman almost twice his size and probably twice his weight was by no means an easy task. He only managed to carry her in his arms like that for a short distance before he was literally incapable of continuing like that.

He dropped the elf - her name was Lyaera, right? - against a tree then slumped with his back against it, trying to catch his breath. The sounds of the Warsong harvesting lumber was now a bit more dim behind them, but he could still make out their savage yells through the thick trees... And he was certain it wouldn't be long before they began to take down the trees in that area as well. _'Great. Just bloody great. Stuck with an unconscious, injured elf woman who wants to kill you as a horde of bloodthirsty orcs cuts the forest down after you. Why don't I try steal Gorehowl next time? That sounds like the next step on my brilliant ideas.'_

 _She is an enemy. She tried to kill you. Kill her now while she is defenseless. Or leave her behind to meet her fate in the hands of the orcs._

Dalrus gritted his teeth. It was bad enough when the voices just tried to bring him down, but now their friendly little suggestions were starting to seriously get on his nerves. _'Not a chance. I won't leave her to die.'_ Then, with renewed determination, Dalrus looked around to see if there was anything he could use in this situation. There was no way he could actually carry her all the way out of harm's way. He'd have to treat her wounds, then hope she'd calm down enough to be reasoned with so he could help her escape.

In a rare strike of luck, he spotted a huge hole at the base of a tree hidden under a small earth mound. The mound was completely hollow, and the tree hole was large enough he could fit in there with his fallen companion. Dragging her inside of the spot without worsening her injury was tough, but ultimatelly, he succeeded in dragginging her in there before covering the hole with leaves and branches.

He then spared a moment to think about his next step. _'Come on, be smart about this.'_ He thought to himself. _'If someone runs into those two corpses back there, they will know who did it, and most importantly, where they went. Get off your lazy arse and clean your tracks.'_

With a low moan of protest, the young rogue closed his eyes, then focused on his hearing for a few moments. The only sounds he heard were the Warsong pillaging the elves' buildings in the distance. No sound of anyone coming their way for now, at least.

Cleaning their tracks was no easy task. Dalrus was quite proficient in moving without making them - not that he could have concerned himself with that as he carried so much dead weight earlier - but getting rid of the trail in a way it would look natural was tricky. If he wasn't careful, a sloppy cover-up would be just as good as bright markings pointing at their direction.

It took him a while - longer than he was comfortable with, considering the noises he was hearing from the elf camp were starting to grow louder and closer - but finally he had performed an adequate enough job. The orcs were still dead where they had been left. Dalrus didn't even try to hide them; each was more than twice the weight of the elf he had carried earlier, and perhaps three times his size considering their bulk. He doubted he could even budge them. Instead, it was best to make it look like the elf had killed them, then escaped through the trees to cover her tracks. Hopefully, this would dissuade anyone from chasing after them. Satisfied, Dalrus made his way back to the hiding spot under the hollow tree, where he faced his next task.

He pulled the branches and leaves off the tree hole, slipped through the entrance and covered it back up again, which fillede the little cave with darkness. He closed his eyes and leaned against the muddy wall so he could adjust his eyes to the darkness and catch his breath for a moment. _'Okay, Dalrus, you got this. You already know how to cut people up, how hard could patching them back up be?'_

He opened his eyes again. Fortunately, the rogue in training had excellent night vision, so he could see the elf well enough in the dark hole they were hiding in. He knelt down besides her, then proceeded to fiddle with his belt for a moment so he could pull out a little pouch he kept on the back side. The pouch was about as big as both his hands together, and within were four patches of clean bandages and five different bottles with multi-coloured liquids.

Dalrus pulled out the smallest bottle there, which contained a deep yellow fluid. _'Who would have thought I'd ever use it like this?'_ He mused as he uncorked it. Within the bottle was a paralyzing toxin. A spoonful was enough to make one's body entirely numb in a few minutes. Usually, by coating his weapons with it, Dalrus could make an opponent falter as they lost sensitivity on their limbs in battle, thus leaving them open for a counter attack. Today, however, he was spilling just a few drops over the tips of throwing daggers - which were significantly smaller and thinner than his other weapons. He would have to use them as surgical instruments.

The next step was inspect just how bad her wound really was. He wanted to avoid this moment as much as possible, but... There was no running from it now anymore. Slowly he curled his fingers around the edges of the elf's tunic, then slowly pulled her vest up to her chest - just at that spot where it got more... Volumous. Fortunately - or unfortunately, as his juvenile mind told him - her wound was fully exposed at that point. Dalrus winced. It did not look pretty.

A jagged piece of iron was sticking out of her side. It looked like a chipped tip of a spear. Dalrus couldn't even imagine what would make a piece of a speartip break off and bury itself against her body like that, but he supposed he should be glad it wasn't the entire thing, otherwise she'd be dead. The cut was about three inches wide, and congealed blood surrounded the wound. He couldn't tell exactly how deep the pointy end had buried itself inside of her since the blade was broken, but he hoped it wasn't too deep. The iron was as thick as his thumb, and as wide as his throwing daggers. Dalrus took in a deep breath. "Alright... Let's do this."

He opened a bandage and laid it over the ground next to him, them placed both his daggers on top of them. First things first; he needed to clean her wound. Dalrus pulled a second bottle from his pouch, this one full of a bright red liquid; a healing potion. Those could perform miracles in battle, he had heard... Unfortunately, the one he had in his possession could do little more than cut little bruises. His master Silvius, however, had taught him even the cheapest of healing potions could be used to clean a wound perfectly. So, he uncorked the bottle and poured it's contents around Lyara's wound. He watched as the congealed blood was washed away, along with some dirt and bits o her tunic that had gotten stuck inside. His eyes shifted to her unconscious face, but so far, Lyara showed no signs of being bothered or waking up from her slumber. _'OK, so far so good. Time for step two.'_

Dalrus took in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled through his mouth. He then took hold of one of the poisoned daggers and placed his free hand over the skin around her wound. Her violet flesh was surprisingly tough to the touch. He half expected her to be a lot... Softer.

 _'Yep, that's totally what you should be focusing on right now. Because clearly you didn't get enough of her the other night.'_

With an internal roll of his eyes, Dalrus held his breath and stabbed the elf just underneath her wound. He felt her entire body tense, and heard a short gasp coming from her... But alas, she did not wake up just yet. He waited a few moments for the poison to spread. Although it would be basically an anesthesiac for that area, she would probably be numb around her entire waist for a while. Dalrus lowered the first dagger and pulled the other one, which he used the slowly scrape the skin around the wound in order to loosen the flesh that had healed around the iron. He was glad she was poisoned and unconscious, because that was probably a maddeningly painful experience.

Dalrus was surprisingly calm throughout the whole ordeal. Maybe because he was so focused in what he was doing with his hands, the task of removing the mortal weapon out of her, that he didn't have any room to grow nervous by the situation they were in. For the next hour, the rogue proceeded to slowly scrape her flesh and muscle while constantly pouring healing potions and adding a little more poison every now and then to renew it's effect until, finally, he managed to dislodge the broken spear tip from inside her. It was a very hard task, since the weapon had lodged itself in between her ribs and was probably scraping her lung. On top o that, it had a jagged edge like a saw, which only made pulling it out even harder. The worst thing, however, was stopping the bleeding after the spear tip was out. He was reminded of one of his lessons with master Silvius...

 _"Tell me, boy. When do you think a dagger deals the most damage?"_

 _"When you stick the pointy end through someone's chest?"_

 _"Ideally, yes. But I'm not talking about a fatal blow. I'm talking about raw, blunt damage. Rending flesh and wounding your foe."_

 _Dalrus pondered about that. "When you hit a vital organ, then?"_

 _"Hah! Well, you're not wrong. But the truth is, whenever you get stabbed by any weapon - be it a dagger, a sword, an arrow or whatever - you'll receive the most damage not on the way in, but on the way out. Know why?"_

 _The boy had scratched his head in puzzlement. "You mean the damage doesn't come from sticking sharp pieces of steel inside someone?"_

 _Silvius had scoffed, then slapped his head. "Pay attention, boy! I said the MOST damage. Of course you can easily kill a person just by shoving a weapon inside of them. But the worst part comes when you pull the weapon out. That's when you're going to expose their wound and let their blood flow unimpeded. A weapon also serves the purpose of plugging a wound until it's removed. A person with several arrows sticking out of them is more likely to survive then someone who foolishly takes their time to pull them out without proper medical care. Understand now?"_

 _"I guess. Can I get back to dinner now?"_

As Dalrus lost himself in his flashback, he almost didn't notice the moment whe he finished removing the broken weapon out of Lyara's body. It was almost as long as his fingers were, and it was covered in her deep, dark blood. Wasting not time, he tossed it to the side and emptied the healing potion over her now gaping wound before pulling out the rest of the bandages out of his pouch. He wrapped all three of them around her waist, using the fourth one to make a thick cushion against the wound to keep it closed. Now that the bleeding was not going to kill her, the next worse thing would be that getting infected, which would be a death sentence for a wound in that area.

Once her bandage was done, Dalrus took a step back and admired his work. The bleeding was not profuse thanks to the potions he poured against the gash on her flesh. He pondered if he should stitch the cut... But alas, he did not have a needle, nor string. This really was the best he could do.

With a long, tired sigh, Dalrus leaned back against the muddy wall of their little underground cave and was suddenly hit by a wave of exhaustion, not just physical, but mental as well. That had been incredibly tiresome. _'Bloody hell, I never want to do something like this again. Better stock up on healing potions for the future.'_ He thought to himself, feeling a shiver run up his spine. He ran a hand up his brow and was surprised to see he was covered in sweat. Looking to his side, he noticed it had gotten darker outside, with the moon's pale, silver light casting a faint shine through their hole's hidden entrance.

Dalrus closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly to calm himself and try to relax a bit. His hands were trembling, and he laid them over his lap. He couldn't allow himself to fall asleep, in case the orcs began to advance that way again... But then what would he do? Fight the entire Warsong clan just to save one elf who had tried to kill him earlier? But then again, he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to just abandon her and run away if things turned south. _'Ah, well. I'll figure something out if it comes to that.'_ He thought to himself.

For once, however, luck appeared to be on his side once more. The orcs didn't even show any sign of coming that way. Throughout the entire night, Dalrus heard them chop up wood and pillage... But then again, that party was a raiding one meant to end the enemy camp. Eventually they'd have to retreat to resume proper lumbering operations. And so they did. By the time the sun rose, Dalrus left their hiding spot and confirmed that the Warsong had abandoned the elf camp... Or what was left of it.

There weren't even corpses behind. What hadn't been looted or chopped down had been put to the torch. The elven bodies had been gathered into a pile to the far end o the camp, then burned down. Dalrus wrinkled his nose at that horrible sight. They were little more that charred husks under that blazing inferno, and the smell was awful... But he had smelled worse before. He thought about searching for survivors or provisions, but a quick survey of the area quickly snuffed that flicker of hope. The orcs had been thorough before leaving. The only thing they hadn't taken were the huge piles of chopped up lumber presumably scavenged from the mortal remains of those ancient living trees the elves had all over their base earlier.

He felt sick. This was even worse than when the undead attacked Gilneas... Those things weren't people. They were mindless puppets being controlled by truly malicious, inhumane creatures bent on their destruction. But this... This was pure savagery. Dalrus had spent enough time hiding amongst the orcs to know they weren't animals. They could think, they had their own hopes and dreams and desires like anyone else. And yet... As he gazed at the charred land, the blood splatters, the broken weapons strewn all over the now dead grass, and the many maimed bodies... He felt a suddden wave of nausea flow through him, and his knees grew weak. Dalrus fell down on all fours, one hand gripping his mouth as he tried not to sub. This was just... Too much.

This wasn't survival. It wasn't a necessary battle for a greater good... It was pure, mindless, senseless carnage. These orcs... They really were no better than the demons, or the Scourge for that matter. So what did matter? Dalrus knew better than anyone how easy it was to end a life... And the previous day also taught him how hard it was to keep one going.

What was even the point of it all then? Even if he kept on struggling like this... Inevitably, one day, he, too, would die... If this damned war didn't kill him before he even had a chance to grow wrinkles. Or a beard. He really didn't want to die before he could grow a big, thick beard like his father had... Or do more than just kiss a girl... Or at least get back home and see his family one more time.

 _Now you see how futile it all is. The very circle of life is meaningless. In the end, all will perish. All will be consumed by the void. You are no exception._

Dalrus sobbed. _Just give up... It's pointless to continue to struggle. All you do is prolong your suffering. Just give in... And the pain will end. Let others feel this pain. Be the one to inflict this pain on them... Before they can do it to you. Start with that girl... It would be so easy. All you need to do is squeeze her neck as she is defenseless... Feel her life slip away through your fingers..._

Suddenly, there was a loud 'cawk' from above, and that noise cut through Dalrus' thoughts like a knife. He suddenly lifted his head and looked up. There was a huge black raven spiraling down through the sky towards him. The bird landed graciously a short distance from where the youth was still on all fours, then folded it's wings and stared straight at him.

Looking into the bird's deep, dark eyes... Dalrus suddenly felt himself calming down. The bird hopped closer to him, it's head snapping from one side to the other as if examining the rogue. Then, it let out another loud, piercing 'cawk' and began to beat it's dark wings once more. Dalrus watched as the bird took high in the air and flew away over the vast treetops.

 _"That bird..."_ Dalrus thought. Of course, wherever there was death... Birds like those would be inebitable attracted. Looking around once more, Dalrus began to take further notice that he wasn't truly alone after all... There were more birds resting upon the tree branches surrounding the ruined camp. Furry little critters could be seen along the trunks and roots... And he could have sworn he spooted what appeared to be a huge white elk spying on him through some thick foliage before it hopped out of his sight.

Dalrus straightened his back and got up to his knees. He lifted his head and closed his eyes.

Yes... He could still feel it. That... Ancient, mystical presence that seemed to fill every little bit of that forest, from the tiniest nook of grass to the mightiest tree trunks. Even here, even now, he could feel the forest's life force flowing. The elves may be dead... But that wasn't the end. Life wasn't over. And besides... They weren't all dead. He had managed to save someone, hadn't he? Someone who was in need. Someone who was lost in despair, lost in their fear... He didn't know what path she would chose once she woke up, but the important thing was... She was still capable of choosing a path to go on.

Even though that was just one, single life he had managed to protect... It was already enough to ease the burden within his soul. _'This is why I came here in the first place.'_ He thought to himself. _'Maybe I can do more. Maybe next time I can save more people... Or keep anyone from dying like this in the first place. But even if the carnage won't stop... Even if in the end, we are all doomed to perish... Even if it's just one, single life... It's still worth fighting for. It's still something worth protecting... Like my home. My family. Felrus... I hope you're alright, brother.'_

 _Give up. It is pointless. You know it. He is already lost. They have all fallen in the hands of your hated enemies._

This time, Dalrus actually managed to smile before those dark, familiar words. _'Yeah, you're all talk, mate. But words alone aren't gonna be enough to make me lose hope.'_ He opened his eyes, and was greeted with the warmth of the rising sun casting it's glorious light over the entirety of Elwynn forest. _'If the other option is to just keel over and give up on live... Then I choose to live it to the fullest with the little time I do have. Even if it's meaningless and insignificant for everyone else... For me, at least... It's all worth standing up again for.'_ With a soft grunt, he stood up. _'If nothing else, then just for the satisfaction of proving you wrong. By the way, we've been on this relationship for a while now and I never asked your name. I'm Dalrus, how are you?'_

Nothing but silence.

Despite the grim reality that surrounded him... That fact was... He had managed to save at least one person. One person who, just like him... Had goals. Dreams. Aspirations. A will to live. Every life that had been lost the previous day was an irreplaceable tragedy... But that was why he had to keep on fighting. To prevent that pain... That horror from spreading and repeating itself.

He would do his part. He would not give up... And most importantly... He would not forget the weight that a life carried.


	28. Chapter 28 - Rising threats

**Chapter 28 - Rising Threats**

The return to their little hideout was a gloom one, but as he pulled out the covers over the tree hole, Dalrus was surprised to see the elven woman sitting up with her bright silver eyes open and staring at him.

The boy immediately let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "I'm glad to see you're awake. How's the injury?" He asked as he began to climb down the hole.

The elf tried to stand up, but then let out a loud moan of pain and gripped her side.

"Hey! Take it easy, that wound is still open! Don't move around so much!" Dalrus snapped at her, then hurried to her side to try and help her lay down once more.

It was clear she wanted to resist, but maybe the pain was too great, or maybe she was just too weak. Either way, he set her back down on the muddy floor covered in leaves. "You were injured very badly. Had a broken piece of a spear buried between your ribs. You're lucky it didn't puncture your lung. I managed to remove it and patch up the hole, but healing isn't really my forte. So if you want to make it through, you're gonna have to rest, alright?" Her breathing was heavy, and her eyes were closed due to the pain. Dalrus furrowed his brows, then stood up, hands on his hips as he stared at the tired, laboring elf. "You're welcome, by the way."

Now she managed to reopen one eye and stare at Dalrus' face. "What... Do you want with me? Is it not enough..." She coughed, and Dalrus saw her wrap both arms around her own waist over the patched wound. "That you defiled our forests... Killed my sisters? Must you imprison... And humiliate me?"

To that, Dalrus could only furrow his brows even further. "Look, lady, you got it all wrong, alright? I never defiled anything, and I never killed anyone in your family either. Quite the opposite, I really risked my neck to save you from those orcs. You know, the tall, green-skinned brutes that really did all those things you said just now? I'm not with them."

Her breathing was still heavy. Dalrus began to wonder if she had a fever... And if he had enough healing potions to keep her alive if she did. "You're all the same... You outsiders march into our land... Cut down our trees... Slay the wisps and the animals of the forest. You have no respect for life!"

With a heavy sigh, the young rogue sat cross-legged a few paces away from her, his back resting against the muddy walls of their tiny cave. "You've got it all wrong, lady. I swear I've never cut any trees or killed any wisps in my life. And the only animal I ever killed was a boar with my father to help feed our family during the winter. If you think that's a sin you might as well go after every single bird in this forest too, because I saw at least three huge owls picking up snakes from the floor and carrying them to their nests. The only people I killed since coming here were those two muscleheads going after you that day."

The woman went silent after that, the only sounds coming from her being her heavy breathing and the occasional moans of pain. Finally, after a long and awkward silence, she said in a weak voice: "What... Do you want from me?"

Dalrus took in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "I don't want anything from you. I just... I saw you running away, desperate and scared... While everyone else died, and I just... I couldn't just leave you to die. I had to do something. I went back to search for more survivors, but... I'm sorry. The orcs, they..." Dalrus' hands tightened into fists over his lap as he was reminded of the ruined remains of the elven camp. "There was nobody else at your camp. I guess everyone else managed to escape through the forest..."

"No." She suddenly cut him off. Her face was now staring at the wall opposite to him. "They wouldn't flee... They would rather stay and die protecting the forest. And I..." Dalrus heard sobbing. "I should have died with them... But I... I was a coward. I was too scared... I couldn't do my duty... And I ran... I ran and left my sisters to die..."

"Hey!" Dalrus suddenly surged forward and grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to stare up at him. "That's enough of that. If you had stayed, you'd have just died a meaningless death. That's not performing your duty, alright? You have a new duty now. A new mission. You need to warn everyone about these invaders, OK? You know how they fight better than anyone now. You've seen what they can do. You can bring this information to your leader. You have a leader, right?"

Her eyes were very wide now, her mouth slightly agape. "Y-yes... Priestess Tyrande, and... There's also Cenarius... He watches over this forest."

Dalrus nodded as if he knew who hell she was talking about. "You think they would want you to die? No good leader would want something like that. Now, if you let me, I'm going to help you get back to your people... And fight back the orcs."

She was very silent once more. Dalrus was keenly aware of his hands squeezing her bare, warm shoulders. Again, he was surprised at how tense her body was, despite having such a gorgeous figure. "Why are you helping me?" She finally said. "And... Who are you?"

Letting go of her, Dalrus took a few steps back and sat cross-legged once more. "I'm Dalrus. And... I'm a human." It was quite weird to actually tell that to someone. "I come from a place called Gilneas. We were also attacked by the orcs in the past. My home land is now being invaded by demons and the undead. We were told that here, in Kalimdor, would be the only place we stood a chance against the Burning Legion. That's why we, the Human Expedition, crossed the sea until we found this place... But it looks like the orcs followed us. I..." Dalrus hesitated. He rememberd his conversation with the warchief, Thrall, now feeling so distant, despite it having ocurred less than a month ago. "I don't know what they want here... But I can tall you for sure this group is bad news. They are brutes and warmongers. And their leader is like a beast. I promise you, we, the Human Expedition, we don't want to hurt you. I'm sure if Lady Jaina were here, she'd be doing all in her power to make allies with your people."

This seemed like a whole lot for the elf to take in at once. Her gaze went up to the root-covered ceiling above them, but at least he saw that she wasn't struggling so much just to breathe anymore. "The Legion..." She spoke. "I heard they were defeated during the War of the Ancients, ten thousand years ago..."

"Yeah, I heard the same story... And now a crazy undead prince with a magic sword help them come back to our world." Dalrus scratched his head nervously. "Hey, listen... You must be hungry, right? If you'll trust me... I can go and get you some water and food." He stood up, slapping the loose twigs and dead leaves off his clothes. "I'm sure you probably want some time for yourself, too." He turned around and began to make his way towards the tree hole...

"Lyaera." Came the voice from behind him.

Dalrus stopped halfway out of the hole, then looked back over his shoulder. "Huh?"

"My name..." She was staring right into his eyes. That beautiful, silver glow coming from her orbs was enough to illuminate her entire face, and as he beheld the female elf laying there on the ground, wounded and scare, Dalrus couldn't help but think... Dear gods, those eyebrows were huge. He also figured it was probably a good idea not to tell her he already knew her name from all the sneaking around he had done prior to the attack.

He managed to flash her a smile. "Nice to meet you, Lyaera. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Shouldn't be too hard to find some fruit and a river here." And with that, he was gone, making sure to cover the hole up once more once he was out.

The griffon rider squinted under his glasses, not daring to believe what his eyes were witnessing. But even as the wind rushed past his bald head and massive beard, it's loud, deafening sound losing only to the mighty wingbeat of the proud beast he was riding high up in the skies, there was no mistaking the fact he was staring at what appeared to be a zeppelin manned by orcs and goblins.

"Captain Baelyn!" One of his squadmates shouted to his right. "It really is a goblin zeppelin, and I see orcs there! What are yer orders?"

The dwarven captain Baelyn huffed, then reached down for his waist. For a moment, a warm, tingling sensation of comfort raced over his body. There was nothing comparable to taking hold of a stormhammer, then swinging the mystical weapon above his head, the thunderous cracking managing to drown out even the wingbeat of a griffon. "What do ye think, ya daft fool? Bring it down!" And with a mighty warcry, the riders engaged the zeppelin. But they weren't the only ones.

In the days following their retreat at the base of the mountains, Lady Jaina Proudmoore had the Human Expedition solidify their position amongst the peaks of Stonetalon mountains. They were very well entrenched there, counting with several bases along the jagged peaks of the mountainside and even around it's peaks. This was most likely a scouting party of the horde, but the watch towers below them were already shooting their arrows and cannon bolts at the trespassers.

The zeppelin began to return fire. Baelyn saw trolls and orcs readying arrows and spears off the edge of their transport. "EVASIVE MANEUVERS!" He shouted, and suddenly the three griffon riders broke their formation and spread out, just in time to evade a shower of deadly bolts from above. The dwarves began to engage in hit and run maneuvers, their storm hammers slamming against the zeppelin's sides and hull to satisfyingly loud effect. Before long, there was even a fire starting on the starboard.

The zeppelin, however, instead of engaging in evasive maneuvers of their own, seemed intent in going straight forward as fast as possible, apparently willing to accept all the incoming damage for the sake of arriving at it's destination sooner. Baelyn could see an orc encampment in the distance. There were more spear throwers and archers ready there, as well as catapults already being loaded. "Retreat! Retreat!" Baelyn shouted, and the griffon riders dove away from the flaming goblin zeppelin and regrouped at a safe distance, where they watched as the transport landed safely at the Horde camp.

"Captain! What shall we do now?" One of Baelyn's fellow riders asked as they flew closed to each other middair, their griffons straining to continuously beat their powerful wings and keep them relatively at the same spot.

Baelyn huffed, then took in a deep breath and shouted to be heard over the many combined wingbeats: "You, go back and report this ta' Lady Jaina! The resot of us will keep an eye on the Horde's movements. The rest o' ye, be ready ta' warn the rest of the troops if ya' notice any funny business over there! Move out, and keep a perimeter!"

Once his orders were obeyed and the dwarves were spread out around the edges of the orc camp, Baelyn couldn't help but worry. These past few days hadn't been kind to the Human Expedition... And he really wasn't liking the size of the Horde's forces. Following their defeat at the mountain's base, they had no choice but to retreat higher up into the mountain tops to make another stand against their old foes. If the Horde decided to attack them once more, their only route of escape would be those mysterious caves deeper into the mountain, and who knew what awaited them there. Morale was reaching a low among the troops, and they had suffered some bad casualties at the hands of the Warsong... Although now it looked as if that particular clan wasn't among the orc forces. Some good news, at least. But then it looked as if there were some more... Different people joining up the main Orc force. He couldn't see too well from that distance, but the fact he could still make out the vague figures of those huge, hulking bovine people they had seen inhabiting the wastelands below... If the Tauren were joining the Horde, that could spell trouble for them. The next few days would most likely be a war of attrition. Fortunately, the Horde still lacked means to do aerial battle with the Human Expedition's forces, other than those zeppelins.

"I don't like the look o' this..." The old Griffon Rider muttered to himself, then pulled his mount to do another scouting sweep along the fringes of the orc camp.

It was another two whole days before Lyaera could sit up with wincing in pain. Then another three before she could stand up on her own, which was fortunate for them, for the very day after, the Warsong's quest for lumber reached their hideout.

Along the course of that week, Grommash was not lazy in his task of building a massive base for the Horde. No less than five different camps were erected along Ashenvale forest on various spots. Dalrus could almost sense the pain Lyaera felt as she watched her beloved forest being put to axe and torch to make way for the killers of her people to build their own establishments.

During this time, Dalrus really got to know more about the elf and her people. Apparently, they were called the "Kal'dorei", or the night elves. It would seem they were the original elf race from which the high elves Dalrus was used to had descended from. Unlike the High Elves, and like their name implied, the night elves were a nocturnal people, who worshipped their moon goddes, Elune. Now Dalrus understood better why it felt as if the moon in this place was bigger and brighter than it was on Azeroth. If what Lyaera had told him was true, then this was an ancient land that belonged to that goddess, with the night elves being her children and chosen.

She had told him the nightborne had lived in these forests for thousands of years, and they were the ones who repelled the Legion's first invasion when their deluded queen Azshara unleashed them into Azeroth ten thousand years ago. Hers was a group of scouts who patrolled the forest, until the Warsong orcs arrived.

Lyaera herself was the newest member of the group who was out on her very first expedition outside of her home city of Tel'Drassil. She was relatively young for elf years; only fourty years old. Not even a full adult by her people's standards. Her people had lived in peace with nature for millenia... And now, all that was ruined by the orcs.

The treatment for Lyaera's wound was not an easy one. She couldn't move out much, and her bandages needed to be changed frequently. By the second day, Dalrus was already all out of healing potions. Fortunatelly, she had a wide knowledge of the local flora, and taught him what herbs could speed her recovery, as well as what leaves could be used for bandage replacements. She still had trouble moving, and needed plenty of rest, but overall, she was recovering nicely. Their new hideout from the orcs was just behind a beautiful fountain a long march away from their main camp. Furbolgs were often seen moving around that fountain... But a few words from Lyaera soothed them and made them welcome the pair's presence. It seemed that those ursine folk were not only intelligent enough to speak, they were also good friends of the night elves.

Dalrus, however, was only growing more and more worried about his own situation, as well as that of the Human Expedition he had been separated from over ten days ago now. They probably thought he was dead at this point. His brother was probably worried sick over him... Just how Dalrus was over Felrus. He wished he could contact him somehow, but as things were, getting on friendly terms with the locals was his best bet of getting out of this situation.

Their hideout was just behind a large stone formation a few yards from where the fountain was. There was a pleasant lake surrounding the fountain, where the furbolgs could often be seen moving back and forth to sate their thirst or hunt for game that would also come to this place. Things were starting to really look up to them. The Warsong had made absolutely no moves to explore that location, as it was quite out of their way... Even so, Dalrus had preffered that secluded spot because it would allow him to see anyone who came to this fountain before him and his companion could be seen.

And that caution was exactly what saved their lives.

Even years later, Dalrus would still have nightmares of what he witnessed that day. He had just finished switching Lyaera's bandages as she laid against the pleasant shade of the tall stones surrounding them - her people didn't do so well during the day, and that was usually when they slept - when he felt it. It was something unlike anything Dalrus had ever felt. It was as if the very air he breathed had become poison, stinging his lungs and making his eyes water. His skin felt warm and prickly as if he were surrounded by lames. His tongue felt dry and shrivelled inside of his mouth, and all air escaped his lungs. His entire body was paralyzed, with nothing but an impending sense of dread filling him. Through his connection with the void, he felt it. Something... Terrible. Something far more synister than he could conceive. As if horror itself had suddenly manifested physically someplace close to them.

Even Lyaera was feeling uneasy. She was beginning to shit as if she intended to get up. Dalrus instantly brought a finger up to his lips while his hand flew to her face and covered her mouth.

And then... They heard it. Dalrus would never forget those voices. He had heard orcs before. He had heard dwarves and even the savage furbolgs speaking in their feral tongue. But never in his life had he heard something so... _Inhuman._ It reminded him of that dark voice in his head, in that manner. Except these voices were so filled with malice in disdain, Dalrus felt more like a pair or rabbid hounds with a taste for human flesh had learned how to speak.

The first voice was the most terrifying one. It was deep and raspid, as if it were echoing from a deep pit. "Ashenvale forest. After ten thousand years, I still recognized this cursed place! This is the vale of our ancient enemy, the night elves' demigod, Cenarius."

The second, however, was dreadful in it's own way. Like it's owner was filled with the cunning of one who had betrayed a thousand people. "Yes, Lord Archimonde demands that Cenarius be destroyed before we launch the invasion of Kalimdor."

Through hand motions, he signaled that Lyaera should stay there, be quiet, and he would see what was going on. Her eyes were very wide with terror, and he could tell she was shaking. He wanted to comfort her, tell her it would be alright... But he did not dare utter a word that moment. For the first time in days, he drew from the power of the Void, covering himself in a layer of shadow energy like a veil... And vanished from sight.

Stealthed, Dalrus slowly - very slowly - moved around the edges of the stones that hid them from sight, all the while listening to those two... _Things_ speak to one another. The first, the more monstrous one, was speaking once more: "I would relish the chance to face him again in combat, but he is crafty and rarely appears in the open."

What he heard next had his ice freeze in his veins. The second one spoke: "Fateful as it sounds, your pet orcs have recently despoiled these forestlands and incurred his wrath. Lord Archimonde and I believe that the orcs are capable of killing Cenarius for us."

Pet orcs? Someone who controlled them? And they wanted to kill Cenarius? Didn't Lyaera tell him that was the name of the demigod, son of Elune herself? Guardian of these forests and patron to all druids? Holding his breath, Dalrus peeked his invisible face over the edge of the stones...

Had Dalrus not witnessed far worse things during his younger days of training with his second teacher who turned out to be an ethereal - during those training sessions where she would have him dive into the Void itself and bear witness to the incorporeal horrors that lurked within - he would absolutely have screamed in terror of the grotesque creature standing next to the fountain. Dalrus had never seen a real demon up close before, but there was no doubt in his mind this was one. And a prime example at that.

First off, it was gigantic. As big as a two story house. From the waist down, the demon sported four powerful, stubby legs resembling a kodo, with a long reptilian tail laying on the ground behind him. The front of it's bestial lower half sported a huge metallic piece of armor, like a massive shield covering almost half of his body, held by chains. From the waist up, it's body was a sickly shade of gray, thick and muscular, with spiky pauldrons over it's shoulders, from which the chains holding his front armor came from. It's arms ended in four-fingered claws that looked more like fangs coming out of it's fingertips. On one hand, it was wielding the biggest weapon Dalrus had ever seen. It looked like a double-sided poleweapon, with a leaf-shaped blade as large as he was on each end. From the demon's back, massive bat wings protrudred, presumable just under his shoulders - Dalrus couldn't see that well. But the worst was the demon's head.

It's chin was thick, round and wide. From either side of it's face, horns resembling the tusks of a troll protruded forward. Dalrus didn't want to imagine how many people the demon had probably killed by lowering it's head and impaling people on them. It's mouth was filled with jagged teeth resembling glass shards, or maybe one of those carnivorous fish Dalrus had seen being hauled by the fishermen of Gilneas' port once - sharks, he thought those were called. Each time the demon opened it's mouth, Dalrus could see a ghastly green glow coming from within, the same as the demon's eyes, which looked more like hollow pits from which the glow emanated. The source o that glow was clear upon looking at the demon's head; it's skull was cracked wide open like an egg missing it's upper half, and from within, demonic green flames were perpetually burning like a chandelier. This demon then opened it's hideous mouth to speak once more: "They would have little chance against Cenarius. If memory serves, his powers were quite formidable."

"Yes, but so are yours." Dalrus' attention was drawn to the second demon there - for there was no doubt, that's what it was. This one was far smaller... It could almost pass for a human, were it not for the enormous bat wings coming from it's back, the cruel-looking horns sticking up from it's bald head, the long claws in it's hand looking more like daggers and the hooves it had instead o feet. The demon was covered in deep red plate armor, and the only bits of it's flesh Dalrus could actually see were it's pale head - which sported crimson eyes and a long face with canines sharp enough to match a worgen's. "The blood pact that you made with the orcs long ago still binds them to you. You need only recharge their energies."

The larger demon then turned to face the smaller one, each of it's steps making the earth below tremble. "Just what are you suggesting, dreadlord?"

The smaller one then pointed at the fountain. "Spill your blood into this pool. Its corruption will lure the orcs to it, and once they've tasted your blood again, they will be unstoppable!"

Dalrus saw the larger demon's skull-like face twist into a horrible parody of a smile. Without uttering a word, it lifted one arm over the fountain, and with the other, he brought his weapon down over his wrist. Blood, icorish and of a deep emerald tone began to gush out and mix with the pristine waters below.

The water began to change. It's crystaline purity began to mingle with the demon's green blood... And suddenly it became a deep, horrific shade of deep red that resembled normal blood. Dalrus saw the stones that comprised the fountain become dark and cracked, the grass surrounding it grow brown and die, and the very air was filled with a miasma of... _Evil._ It was that moment Dalrus realized... Spread all over the floor surrounding the fountain were the gory mortal remains of the furbolgs who guarded that place for them.

As Dalrus watched the fountain's corruption in horror, the only other sound besides his heartbeat drumming in his ears were the demon's maniacal laughter. "HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAH!"


	29. Chapter 29 - Guardians of the forest

**Chapter 29 - Guardians of the forest**

Even long after the two demons vanished, Dalrus was still frozen in place. It was a while before his legs could move again. His face was drenched in sweat, and his mouth felt very dry. He couldn't take his eyes away from the hellish landscape the two demons had created before his eyes. The corrupted fountain was still spewing it's tainted contents all over the stones that comprised it, as well as the dead grassy floor in it's surroundings. All the animals were gone. The furbolgs were all dead. And he could still feel that demonic presence emanating from the corrupted fountain.

And then... There were the new guardians of the fountain.

Just before the demons left through some sort of dark portal, they had summoned grotesque creatures from within. They had hooves for feet and horns like the dreadlord did... Except these had no wings, and their bodies were covered in some kind of fur of varied tones. Their facial features also seemed to slightly resemble that of the night elves... But a twisted, vile version of them. "I trust you satyrs will keep anyone unwanted from drinking these waters." The giant four legged demon had said before passing through the portal, which closed up once his companion followed him.

 _'Move.'_ He could hear his master's voice in his head. _'You only stay still when you don't want to be noticed. Now is the time to ge the hell out of there, boy.'_

And so he did. Dalrus ran back to where Lyaera was waiting for him - the elf covering her mouth with both hands, her eyes very wide with fear. She was still laying down with her back against the stones, right where he had left her. "They are... Gone." Dalrus managed to speak. His throat hurt. "But we gotta get out of here, right now. Come on." He began to gather their belongings and uncerimoniously shove them into his pockets.

With his aid, Lyaera stood up once more. "What... What in the Mother Moon's name was that?" She whispered as Dalrus helped her up and began to guide her towards the deeper woods.

"Demons... Two of them." Dalrus answered as they were surrounded by the pleasant shade of the tall, thick trees. "They killed the furbolgs... And one of them spilled his blood over the fountain. It's tainted... Corrupted. I don't even want to know what would happen if someone drank that. I'm just glad they didn't notice us."

Lyaera was trembling against him. Dalrus had one arm around her waist, the other held her own arm over his shoulder to better support the tall elf. "Such... Foul... Tainted energy... I had never felt anything so... _Twisted_... Those were truly demons... " Her voice was trembling. "There's no more time, Dalrus. We must return to Tel'Drassil and inform the High Priestess of this."

Dalrus was already nodding. "Yeah, I agree. But we will think of that later. Right now, we need to get as far away from this damned place as possible. Come on." Together, the night elf ranger and the human rogue went deeper into the forest, trying to make as much distance between them and the horrors behind them as possible. Dalrus was aware they were moving towards the orc bases, but honestly, even the Warsong were a better alternative then what he had just borne witness to.

After a few minutes, Lyaera said: "Thank you... I can walk on my own now." Looking up, Dalrus saw her face was still twisted with worry, but at least she felt a bit more steady now.

"OK, but you still shouldn't be travelling around with a hole in your side. Let's see..." Dalrus took a quick sweeping look at their surroundings. There were tall, imposing trees as far as the eye could see, with the sun above completely hidden by their leaves and branches. Fortunately, Dalrus spotted what he was looking for quickly; a big, broken branch laying against a tree's roots. Carefully, he let go of Lyaera, then picked up the branch. It was quite long and felt sturdy in his grasp. He offered it to his elf companion. "Here, use this to walk. The lesser the burden on your side, the better.

Lyaera thanked him, then took the branch to use as a walking stick. Over the next two hours, Dalrus scouted ahead to make sure the path was clear as they continued to travel, Lyaera helping point them in the right direction. She said their first destination should be a shrine to Elune not too far in the west, where they would receive further aid from her kin. There, at least, they'd be able to travel safely to Tel'drasil and speak to the High Priestess, an elf by the name Tyande Whisperwind. Sounded like a good plan. He was still uncertain if she was healthy enough to be travelling on her own like that... But time had run out. Who knew when and where those demons would show up again? And that thing they had said about the orcs? Dalrus had a very bad feeling about it all.

At least, so far, things were looking good to them. They hadn't ran into any of the Warsong's scouts. Eventually, they reached a large river crossing. Dalrus knew on the other side, the orc camps were keeping watch. That could be a problem. He scratched his head in puzzlement, then decided to make his way back to where Lyaera would be waiting for him to return and inform her of what awaited them ahead.

He had taken about ten steps back under the cover of Ashenvale's woods when he heard that familiar whistle coming from his left.

Dalrus instantly ducked and rolled. The arrow flew past where his shoulder had been a second ago and buried itself in the ground next to him. With a quick glance to his side, Dalrus saw it was burried in an almost perfect 90 degree angle. That was all he needed to know where it had come from.

He made a furious sprint straight ahead, running towards a tree not too far away from him. Three more arrows hit the ground behind him, his sudden burst of speed clearly messing up with his assaulter's aim. Dalrus reached the tree, but didn't stop. His foot planted firmly against the trunk, and he kicked upwards with all his strength, managing to take three vertical steps before gravity began to affect him once more. At that moment, Dalrus kicked the tree once more with both feet, thus launching himself through the air in the general direction of his assailant.

Whoever this person was, they were good. They must not have been too phased by his agility, because a moment later he say the glint of metal, and another arrow was flying towards his face. Airbone like he was, there was no way to dodge... But he didn't need to. He had already gauged precisely where the arrows were coming from, and now he had seen directly the moment another one was shot. His attacker was at the top of one of the trees, hidden behing it's leaves and shooting him from above.

Dalrus saw the arrow travel the space between the bow it had been shot from and his face in less than an instant, but that was all he needed. As he was running up the tree earlier, he was already unholstering his swords, and had them both in hand. Their aditional weight made it a bit harder - and he was somewhat out of practice, considering all he had done the past few days was hide and sneak around - so the arrow came just a little bit too close for his peace of mind before he shadowstepped behind his assailant, vanishing in the air and reappearing on top of the branch right before the archer attacking him.

Instinctively, Dalrus brought his weapons down against that person, and only too late did he realize it was a night elf archer like Lyaera. He caught the woman off guard, but at the last second he managed to shift the angle on his blades so instead of cleaving her in half, he ended up tackling her with his full body weight. With a loud grunt, they both fell from the tree. It took about two seconds for them to hit the ground, a time during which the elf desperately struggled to free herself from him by kicking and twisting herself. Dalrus was only too happy to break that physical contact, so when they finally hit the ground, he rolled away from her, weapons in hand once more and saying. "OK, hold up just a second!"

This elf wasn't much for conversation, however. With nimbleness to rival his own, she had also rolled away from him, another arrow immediately nooked into her bow and being shot at him as she got up to her knees on the ground. Dalrus barely managed to dodge by bending his back down, then leaping to the side to escape her second shot that came almost immediately after. "Time out! Time out!" Dalrus was shouting as he began to zig-zag and leap backwards to continue evading all her deadly bolts. Was she ever going to run out of amunition?

It looked as if she was growing just as frustrated as he was, however. When she realized she wouldn't be able to hit him, the elf discarded her bow and pulled out two long, thin blades from her back. Without relenting, she ran towards him with her weapons raised.

"WILL YOU JUST CALM DOWN FOR A BLOODY SECOND, WOMAN!?" He screamed before losing his patience and shadowstepping once more. Dalrus planted his knees against her back and brought his weapons down around her neck, stopping just short as she collapsed under his weight against the ground. They ended up with the boy sitting on her back, his legs immobilizing her arms and his swords threatening to cut her head off. "I'm not an orc, OK? I'm not your enemy! I have one of your friends with me!"

The only response he got was another grunt. And then he heard it again. That bloody whistle, coming from behind him. Dalrus rolled to his side and stood up once more, only to have to resume his evasive maneuvers as more and more arrows, now from different directions came at him. _'Oh, goody. She's not alone. I gotta get Lyaera.'_ He could see more elves emerging from the woods above and from the ground, two from his right side, and another one from his left. He had left Lyaera directly in front of where he was facing. Taking a deep breath, Dalrus summoned a cover of shadow energy that covered his whole body and immediately made him vanish from sight. Without hesitating, placed his swords on his waist and ran straight ahead to where he knew Lyaera was waiting for him.

Not even five steps ahead, and for the first time since he was seven, Dalrus tripped. It was so unexpected, he didn't even realize it until both his feet were already up in the air and the ground was racing to meet his face. Instinctively, he reached out with his hands to cushion the fall and try to turn it into a barrel roll. What he didn't expect was that the moment his palms touched the grassy floor, it suddenly shifted under him like a serpent. He saw a thick, dirt-covered tree root spring from the ground and wrap around his wrists like a tentacle. It pulled him high up in the air, with his arms held above his head while he kicked and flailed, his stealth veil completely lost along with his focus. "What the hell!? Hey!"

Looking down, Dalrus realized it really was a tree root... And more than one. Several vines were wrapping around each other to make one thick tendril that immobilized his hands as efficiently as iron bindings. Looking back up, Dalrus saw the elves approach him, bows and arrows all aimed straight at him. They said something to each other in elvish, eyes never leaving his face. "Hey! Would you please just put me down? I'm telling you, I'm not your-"

"SISTERS, STOP!" He heard Lyaera's voice from behind him. Twisting himself to look over his shoulder, Dalrus saw her panting and leaning over her walking stick. Her face was drenched in sweat, and one hand was hugging her side. It looked as if she had forced herself to run, and her wound had opened up again. "He is not our enemy! Please, lower your arrows!"

He saw shock over the elves' faces. Now that he had a better look, there were four in total, all female, all wearing that similar light leather armor and cloak that Lyaera was. They did not lower their weapons, however. "What did you do to her, fiend?" One of them finally said.

"He's done nothing but aid me! He is not like these brute greenskins who defile our forest! I beg you, stay your hands! He is to be trusted!" Lyaera was clearly struggling to get her words out, then suddenly she coghed and covered her mouth, a small spray of blood covering her fist.

"Hey! She's injured! Kill me later, but go help her!" Dalrus shouted, looking back at the archers whose arrows were all aimed straight at his heart. He saw them scowl, exchange looks again, then quickly hush a few more things in their native tongue before two of them carefully lowered their weapons and rushed to Lyaera's side.

The tension was high there, and Dalrus' wrists were already starting to hurt. He didn't dare to try and escape, given the situation. One wrong move and Lyaera could be hurt even more. He saw them lay the elf down and uncover her wound. Then two of them knelt by her side and pulled out a bag with what Dalrus supposed were medical supplies, which they began to apply to Lyaera's wound. After a couple minutes, there was a fresh bandage over her torso, and she had stopped coughing blood, which was a relief, at least. "Hey! How is she?" Dalrus asked, struggling to watch them over his shoulder. His questions were ignored.

Finally, the two elves helped Lyaera stand up, then carried her over to where the other two were pointing their arrows at Dalrus. They began to speak in elvish, but Lyaera, at least, was still only speaking the common tongue. "No, it was completely destroyed by the invaders... My life was spared thanks only to him. He mended my wounds and helped me hide... He brought me here so we could inform the priestess of what is going on." Some more chatter from the elves, whom Dalrus suspected were speaking in their own native tongue just to spite him. "He says he is a human. But that's not important. I promise you, he is not our enemy. There are far more pressing matters right now... I have urgent nows! Please, you must warn Cenarius of this!"

Now there was a name he had heard earlier. "Hey." Dalrus said, and for once, the elves actually snapped their attention to him. "Who is this Cenarius anyway?"

One of the elves' lifted her arrow to aim at Dalrus' face. "You do not utter Cenarius' name, defiler!"

The young rogue had already opened his mouth to reply when what was possibly the heaviest, the most imposing and the most majestic voice he had ever heard in his entirely life said behind him: "Enough. Lower your weapons."

All the elves immediately obbeyed, then dropped to their knees - Lyaera included. The vines squeezing Dalrus' wrists slowly turned him around until he was facing the one who had spoken.

The creature before him was a singular one. Like the demon from earlier, this one too possessed four animal legs and the torso of a man. This one, however, had the lower half of a majestic brown stag, with tree leaves covering his back like a mantle. From the waist up, his body was that of a male night elf, but with a few differences. First, his left hand looked like it was made out of wood, like a huge claw comprised of roots. His hair was long and fell over his shoulders and back, but all over it were little vines and leaves, and from either side of his head, massive antlers were sticking out, it's pointy ends sprawling in all directions like tree roots (he was beginning to see a pattern here). His face was smooth and devoid of hair... But it had fierce look to it. A look of immesurable wisdom and experience. His golden, gleamy eyes were fixated on Dalrus'. He simply stood there, staring at the human whose wrists were really starting to hurt as if examining him.

The most sensitive thing about this creature, however... The boy could immediately tell, this thing was _ancient._ A primal power seemed to be emanating him, like the rays from the sun. This wasn't the same as the power he had felt from Thrall, however. Dalrus could feel this wasn't like the wild spirits that roamed the land and it's elements... It was more like this **was** the land itself.

From this being, Dalrus sensed life. That was the best way he could put it. It was what he felt when gazing at a meadow. Gazing at every verdant tree, every lively critter, every flower in the ground. The power of life itself emanated from him so intensely, Dalrus even felt the air was purer and he could breathe better close to this... Divine looking entity.

Unable to help himself, Dalrus eventually said: "So... You must be Cenarius."

He saw the... Whatever he was' eyes squint just a fraction. "Yes. I am Cenarius, guardian of this land. I have been watching over you, and the other invaders. Watched as you desecrated this forest and slaughtered the keepers of this sacred place."

Dalrus blinked. "OK, back up for a second, buddy. I never desecrated anything."

One of Cenarius' mighty stag legs stomped the ground furiously. "You dare try to lie to me, mortal? I know you came to this forest with those demonspawns. And I can sense the corruption in you. It hangs around you, like a cloud, twisting and poisoning all it touches!"

Dalrus felt an icy grip in his heart. _He knows your secret, little one..._ "OK, now this is just a big misunderstanding. I only came with the orcs in the literal sense, alright? I was hiding amongst their stuff, but I'm not friends with them, in any way. In fact, I'm also their enemy! We should be helping each other bring them down! So how about you loosen these roots for me, eh?"

He easily could tell Cenarius was not amused. The scowl continued to be just as severe and fierce. "I should allow the earth to swallow you whole, never to be seen again, and put an end to your vile presence. The only reason you still draw breath is because you have chosen to aid one of our own, in her time of dire need. But I will no longer tolerate your presence in this forest. Begone, and never return to this place!" And much to his relief, Dalrus felt the vines release his wrist, causing him to fall heavily to the ground below.

"Now, what just a moment-" Dalrus began to say as he got up, but then he had four arrowtips poking his neck from each side. He froze, but didn't stop speaking. "What about Lyaera? What are you going to do to her?"

Cenarius gleaming golden eyes seemed to almost soften for a moment, but that heavy expression did not change. "She will be returned to her people taken care of. I will not forget you saved her life, mortal. And that is why I too am sparing yours. I don't know what your intentions are, but you cannot hide the darkness that encrouches your very soul. I will not allow such evil to remain in Ashenvale. Now, begone. I will allow you to leave unharmed so long as you do not interfere with the forest. And now..." Cenarius slowly turned around, his gaze shifting to where Dalrus knew one of the orc emcampments were. "I shall cleanse these lands from those wretched invaders!"

Dalrus had no choice but to watch from where he laid on the ground as the elves helped carry Lyaera, who was now unconscious, away with them. Unable to stop himself, Dalrus suddenly got up and screamed: "The demons are back! The Burning Legion... They did something to a fountain, and they have plans for the orcs!"

Cenarius stopped, as did the elves. Slowly, the demigod looked down back at the tiny human from over his shoulder. "I have driven back the Burning Legion before, human. And I shall do so again." And with that, Dalrus could only watch helplessly as they walked away as a terrible premonition twisted deep within his gut.

 _'This is bad... Oh, this is gonna end so bad...'_ He thought to himself, getting up and slapping the twigs and the leaves off his leather clothes and trousers.

 _Now you shall see... Even Gods fall, little one._

 _'I have a name, you know.'_

 _Cenarius is a fool who thinks himself invincible after ten thousand years of peace. His pride shall be his downfall. You need only watch..._

And for once in his life... Dalrus actually agreed. He couldn't just go back; he had to see what was going to happen next. How would Cenarius drive back the orcs?

Making sure to cover himself in his stealth once more, Dalrus began to carefully follow the path the demigod and his archers had just treaded. Considering the ground didn't come back to life and attempted to kill him this time, he assumed this wasn't against Cenarius' will. Slow and steady, Dalrus made his way back to the riverside, from where he could see the orc bases once more.

What he saw left him speechless.

The orcs were doing battle with what looked like the trees themselves... These, however, were not like the ancients who were in the elf bases the orcs raided. Dalrus watched as the very trees the orcs had been swinging their axes for days suddenly sprouted arms and uplifted themselves from the ground to attack their butchers. Not just that, but what looked like an entire legion of elves were assaulting the orcs as well. From above, he could see archers mounted on those bird-horse creatures - Lyaera had told him they were called hippogryphs - and from the ground, hundreds of rangers and huntresses mounting those gigantic black felines - called nightsabers, according to Lyaera - as well as their glaive throwers. And up above in a tall hill, Dalrus saw Cenarius himself watching over the battlefield with his arms raised. Looking up, the young rogue watched as the very sky began to shift to a shade of green, and a slick emerald rain began to fall. He wasn't sure what it's effects were, but eventually he noticed the elven forces who fought under the rain had greater vigor and resilience than the rest of their troops.

Spiky torns arose from the ground and lashed at the orcs. More trees came to life and joined the fray. The Warsong put up a valiant fight, but it didn't take long for this base to be completely decimated. From his vantage point, the human boy watched as Cenarius' forces reagrouped and proceeded to move for the next orc base, like a green and violet tide, sweeping them off this land. It really looked like this would be a very one-sided battle for the elves. After all, not only did they manage to reorganize their numbers, but they also had the full might of a deity at their side.

So why was it that Dalrus couldn't rid himself of that terrible doubt squeezing his guts with an icy grip?


	30. Chapter 30 - The blood of Mannoroth

**Chapter 30 - The Blood of Mannoroth**

Things were looking good for the night elves.

They really were like an unstoppable tide. One after another, they completely eradicated the Warsong bases. Nature itself rose to help the guardians of the forest in their struggle to fight back the invaders, all this while Cenariu's great voice carried over the battlefield like soaring thunder: "Who dares defile this ancient land? Who dares the wrath of Cenarius and the Night Elves?"

The orcs did their best to fight back. As word of the attack spread, they hurried to form a desperate defense at the riverbank, with Grommash himself leading from the frontlines. For a moment, Dalrus feared the worst, as he watched scores of elven rangers fall before Gorehowl. Alas, for every elf that fell, many more were there to take their place. Cenarius continued to make his healing rain pour down his troops, on top of summoning more of those treants and making deadly spike-covered roots rise from the ground to entagle and pierce the orcs.

Born-natural fighters the Warsong may be, but the elves were simply too many, and had the full power of a demigod aiding them in battle. Dalrus even heard one or grunt scream: "Their numbers are too great! We must fall back to the other side of the river!" Dalrus had half expected Grommash to hack down the coward where he stood, but to his surprise, the orcs really did retreat to their main base as arrows and glaives rained down at them from behind.

The interesting thing is, just as soon as the orc buildings were destroyed, the elves would instantly begin to reclaim their land. Dalrus saw those mighty ancients take root over the ruins of the Warsong's constructions and begin to mend the scorched earth and the fallen trees, little by little. Trees of Life were planted, and the elven priests dedicated themselves to make them grow all the faster. Before the moon was high in the sky, all trace of the Warsong orcs from that side of the riverbank was completely erased by the Night Elves.

As for Grommash's final bastion, it was proving harder to break through than imagined. His last base was very well fortified, and the watch towers were doing a fine job keeping their attackers at bay... For the moment. It wouldn't be too long before Cenarius and his troops had finished cleansing the forest on their side and dedicated his full focus into ending the orc presence in Ashenvale once and for all.

And yet, despite all of this, Dalrus couldn't rid himself of that dark, grim worry that squeezed his heart. He couldn't forget what he saw earlier that day... He couldn't forget the demonic presence and what they had done to that fountain. He assumed Cenarius would first purge the orcs before switching his attention to that fountain - they did present a more immediate threat, after all. But what if the orcs found it first? What would happen? What would they do? And those satyrs...

The unease was very unsettling. Dalrus rubbed his eyes. Was there truly nothing left for him to do now? Cenarius had ordered him to leave his forest... But where would he go? How would he return to his people? To the Human Expedition? To his brother? He didn't even know where to go... The young rogue was beginning to feel very lost now. And very worried about what his next step would be.

And that was when he saw that raven again.

There was something about that bird that was just... Eye catching. Somehow, the moment he saw that black spot soaring over the battle between orcs and elves, he instantly knew it was the same one he had seen in the first elf camp the orcs had destroyed. Dalrus' eyes were glued to the raven, and he watched, unblinking, as it took a full turn over the battlefield before it suddenly took a dive and flew down... Straight at where he was.

At the last moment, the bird spread it's wings once more and flew past over his head, a strong gush of wind making him close his eyes and cover his face. When he looked back up again, the raven was standing on a tree branch, staring straight at him. It's dark eyes watched him with some strange, unnatural interest, it's head snaping from side to side a couple times to get a better look at the boy. And then, it spread his wings, let out a loud 'caw' and flew off again, only to land once more at another tree further into the forest.

 _'What is with that bird?'_ Dalrus thought to himself. Curiosity took over, and before he knew it, was was chasing after the raven. As soon as he reached the tree the bird was perched on, however, it immediately opened it's wings once more and flew to another tree. When Dalrus approached it again... The same thing happened. _'How does it know where I am? I am stealthed!'_ Dalrus recalled his masters saying that usually, animals had keener senses than humans. But for this dumb bird to see right through his stealth like he were clear as an apple in an orange field? This couldn't be an ordinary bird. Again, Dalrus approached it's tree, and the bird simply flew to another one.

Now he was starting to get angry over it. Gritting his teeth, Dalrus climbed one tree and attempted to jump to one branch before shadowstepping closer to the bird. But, somehow, it felt like the bird already knew what he was going to do, because the moment he performed his technique, it was already beating it's wings above his head, another loud 'caw' echoing through the forest that surrounded them.

"OK, what is your deal?" He said out loud, staring dumb folded at the raven. Instead of cawing back at him, the bird simply turned and began to fly deeper into the forest, a couple meters above the ground.

 _'Oh, no you don't!'_ He thought, furious to be made fool by a bloody bird. Leaping off the tree, Dalrus broke into a sprint after the raven.

It was a very... Strange run. Dalrus was certain he was running straight after the raven, but he never felt like he was getting any closer, or any farther. The trees felt is if they were zooming past his body, the ground under his feet soft and uneasy like a cloud. It felt more like he was running in a dream, where no feeling was certain, no law was absolute. The ground was just... Giving way under him. The air was heavy and dense, but he didn't feel tired. All he could look at, all he could think about was that strange bird that flew so infuriatingly close to his grasp, but just a little bit out of it, as if guiding him...

Dalrus blinked. When had he stopped?

He looked around. He was standing up, fully still. He was still in the forest... Wasn't he? There were trees surrounding him. But something about this new place he was at felt... Familiar.

A dark... Synister presence in the air...

The tall stones him and Lyaera had been using as their hiding spot for a few days as the friendly furbolgs aided them...

He was back at the corrupted fountain.

The raven was perched atop one of the stones that were hiding the fountain from his sight. It was staring at him once more. Then it turned it's black head around to peer at the fountain instead. Then back to Dalrus. The message was clear.

 _'Why the bloody hell am I taking orders from a bird?'_

Slowly, Dalrus walked around the stone, careful not to make any noise.

Those creatures... The satyrs were still there. Now that he had seen so many of the Night Elves, he couldn't help but notice further similarities between them and these satyrs. They looked more like an evil, demonic version of an elf. The thought sent a shiver up his spine.

The fountain was just as dark and corrupted as before. It's once clear waters filled with that red, oozing liquid from being mixed with the demon's blood... The ground surrounding the fountain was completely dead, dry and cracked. Fel energies seemed to emanate from it, and Dalrus wondered what twisted creatures these Satyrs must be if they could remain in this place without being affected by it.

But... That wasn't what the raven wanted him to see. No, it was...

 _'Bloody hell, how long was I chasing this stupid bird?'_

Coming from a trail down through the south was a small group of the Warsong clan, lead by none other than Hellscream himself. To his side was a troll shaman, pointing his long staff at the satyrs and their corrupted fountain. "That be it, mon! The dark energies that I sense come from the pool!"

The satyrs grew agitated. They all gathered in front of the fountain, many armed with wicked curved blades. "Foul orcs!" One of them said. "The burning masters charged us with protecting this well. You are unworthy of drinking from these dark waters!"

Grommash stepped forward, Gorehowl in hand. His dark eyes looked at the satyr up and down, as if examining the creature. Then, with a snicker, he lifted his weapon and held it with both arms. "I don't know what you are or who you serve, but no one bars my way!"

Dalrus held his breath. With a mighty warcry, Hellscream charged and brought Gorehowl down at the nearest satyr. The creature never stood a chance. It's lifeless, maimed body collapsed to the ground, dark blood spraying everywhere. What came next was pure chaos and carnage. The orcs and trolls attacked the satyrs like savage beasts. Somehow they managed to make an even bigger mess than when the demons had slaughtered the furbolgs earlier. The battle was fast and decisive. Not a single one of the satyrs were left alive.

The troll, whom Dalrus assumed by his robes and staff must have been a shaman, approached the corrupted fountain. His face suddenly twisted in disgust, and he spat at the ground. "The pool emanates great power, but I smell stench of a demon curse about it!"

Dalrus watched as the hopelessness filled the Warsong's faces, many of them looking tired and lowering their gazes. Grommash, however, walked over to where the troll was, his head held high. "I am cursed already! If I must drink from these waters to defeat Cenarius, then I will."

Shock and horror now took over their expressions. One orc grunt even stepped up, and said: "No! That goes against everything the warchief teaches us! We can't let rage overcome us again!"

Grommash suddenly turned around, his hand squeezing Gorehowl's hand so tightly his knuckles were growing white. For a moment, Dalrus was certain he'd carve the grunt in two where he stood. But to his surprise, Grommash took in a deep breath, then turned back to the tainted pool. "No, warrior... We must embrace it as never before! We must become the vessels of destruction that we were meant to be!"

And so, the hidden rogue could only bear witness as Grommash Hellscream laid his weapon against the pool's dark stones and sank both his hands into it's depths. He brought them up in a conch, filled to the brim with that crimson fluid. _'No... Don't do it...'_ He desperately thought, but it was as if his body were paralyzed. There was nothing he could do to stop this.

Grommash brought his hands to his lips, and swallowed down those dark waters.

The warchief let out a sharp grunt of pain, then fell to one knee, his fist slamming the ground to break his fall. His body was... Changing. Dalrus saw the orc's already prodigious muscles bulge out and swell even further, making him look even bigger than he already was. Not only that... But his emerald skin began to shift color. It grew darker, and darker, that once shade of green turning into a deep, crimson red. Slowly, Grommash lifted his head... And Dalrus saw his eyes were glowing, almost like that demon whose blood had corrupted the pool.

"Chieftain?" One grunt hesitantly said as he approached his leader. "How do you feel? Do you need assistence?"

"How I feel...?" Grommash whispered, then slowly got up to his feet. He peered down at his own hands, inspecting his new skin color, and the other changes to his body... Then he closed down his hands into fists, threw his head back and let out a rumbling laughter. "Yes! I feel the power once again, coursing through my veins! You ask how I feel? I feel better than ever in my life!" He then turned around to face his troops. "Come, my warriors! Drink from the dark waters and you will be reborn!"

Hesitantly at first, one by one... The orcs stepped forward to drink from the fountain. Just like their chieftain... They all underwent that terrible transformation. Their bodies grew bigger, their skin became red, and their eyes were filled with bloodlust and killing intent.

There was one, however, who refused. An old orc wearing a wolf hood over his face. On one arm, he wore a peculiar weapon. It looked like two sharp claws coming from his wrist. Dalrus could feel this one had a similar feel to Thrall. Not just him, but the troll who led the orcs to this place was also keeping his distance.

Grommash noticed this. "Well, shamans?" Hellscream grunted as he stepped forward to confront them. "What are you waiting for? Drink from the fountain and embrace the demonic powers that once made us strong once more!"

Dalrus saw the troll look at the orc shaman, then up at the Warchief. Hesitantly, he approached the fountain, where he brought one hand down, then back up to his lips. He collapsed to the ground, gasping. A dark green aura seemed to envelop his body, and when he raised his face once more, Dalrus could see he was smiling. "Such powah... Incredible! This be the power of fel, mon!"

Curiously, the troll's body didn't change much, aside from his eyes developing that crazed, savage glow the other orcs had. He stood up straight, then walked back to Grommash's side. "Hehehe... This be better than even what the spirits offer, mon. With this, the Warsong will be invincible!"

With a satisfied smirk, Grom then turned to face the orc shaman, who had remained completely still the whole time. "Now you, Krek'thar. It's time to reclaim your lineage!"

The shaman's hooded face lifted to stare at Grommash's face. "No."

That one, simple word seemed to make everyone in that place go quiet.

Grommash's eyes narrowed. "You dare disobey my orders, shaman?"

Despite being overshadowed by a very angry looking Grommash Hellscream infused with the dark power of demons, the shaman did not look phased. "I refuse to let myself become a slave to demons again, Grommash. And I am disappointed that you'd become one so willingly."

Grommash spread his arms, threw his head back and _roared._ If Dalrus thought his voice was powerful before, now it was so ferocious the rogue had to cover his ears, and he could see birds in the distance fly away in fear. "You dare call me a slave, Krek'thar? We are not slaves! We are free! Free to use this great power as we see fit!"

Still, however, the shaman was not intimidated. "Yes, I remember the promises we were made long ago. I remember it too well, Grommash. I remember the days when we eagerly accepted Mannoroth's gift. The days when we gave in to your bloodlust and mercilessly slaughtered all the draenei we could find in our homeland of Draenor. I remember the days when Gul'Dan and his Shadow Council would decide the fate of the Horde." Then, the shaman brought his hands up to his hood and pulled it back. It was definitely the oldest orc Dalrus had ever seen. His haead did not have a single hair to it, but his face was covered in wrinkles. His left eye was missing, with a big gash over it. "And I will never forget the day when the elements abandoned us, shamans. This is what killed Draenor, Grommash. This is what sealed the fate of the orcs."

Grommash huffed... Then he turned around, walked back to the fountain and picked up Gorehowl. "This is your final warning, shaman. Utter one more word, and I don't care if you are one of Thrall's favorites. I will gut you where you stand and leave your carcass here to rot!"

To this, the old orc merely scoffed. "I care not. If this is where I meet my end, so be it. If I die... I shall die a free orc. Unlike you, and the rest of the Warsong." The shaman then closed his eyes and lifted his head. "I thought I'd never hear the spirits again, and accepted my cursed fate in the hands of the Legion. When the Horde was defeated, and we had to go into hiding like maggots in the earth... I thought that was our just punishment for our crime against the spirits. But then Thrall appeared... And he offered us hope. He offered us redemption. He broke our shackles, and let us rise once more as proud, free orcs! And for the first time... I could hear them again. He gave us a second chance, and by my blood and honor, I would rather die than become a servant to demons once more!"

"ENOUGH!" Grommash screamed, then stomped over to where the shaman was, his mighty war axe raised high above his head. "If you desire to be with your spirits so much, then I shall allow you to join them!"

As the axe came down, Dalrus saw the orc open it's one good eye one final time...

And never in his life had he seen so much sorrow in an orc's gaze.

Gorehowl split the shaman's chest right open. Blood gushed out like a spray, and with a cry of pain, Krek'thar fell to his back.

With a snicker of disgust, Grommash looked back at the fountain, then down at the dying shaman, a sadistic grin twisting his features. "Looks like I couldn't kill you right away... Don't worry, shaman. I shall be merciful. If you wish to live, then crawl over to the fountain, and drink. The rest of you! Come with me... We shall escort the back of our troops to this place, and spread the power among the rest of the Warsong!"

Krek'thar lifted his head off the ground. "Gora... Ogar..." Was all he managed to say before he coughed, and his chin was covered in blood.

Grommash said nothing in response, but simply stared at the fatally wounded shaman. "Honor... Pah. There's no room for honor. Only victory." And with that, the chieftain and his warriors left, leaving the dying orc behind them.

Dalrus waited until they were gone, then immediately hurried over to Krek'thar's side.

"OK, hang in there... I have some bandages with me, and medicine, I should be able to stop the bleeding, and-" His words were suddenly interrupted when the orc grabbed his wrist. Shocked, Dalrus looked down... But Krek'thar's eyes were still closed. And his grip... Was very weak.

"Human..." He whispered, his face struggling to lift from the ground. Alas, his head fell back down, a short, painful grunt escaping him. "The spirits... They told me you were here. Fate... Has brought you to this place..." He coughed again, and more blood covered his mouth.

"OK, that's dandy and all, but please, don't talk, alright? I-I can help you out here. I just have to close this wound..." Dalrus frantically searched for bandages in his bag... But he knew he wouldn't find any there. He knew the herbs and leaves he had gathered with Lyaera wouldn't be sufficient for this.

He knew this orc would die no matter what he did.

Unless...

"Listen to me." Too weak to lift his head, Krek'thar simply let it rest against the floor, his eyes closed as his blood poured from the gaping wound across his chest. "I saw... You, and my Warchief... Your fate... I saw your destiny. You can save Hellscream... And the rest of the Warsong. There is still hope... You must help... Thrall... And... Grom..."

The orc's grip felt weaker, and weaker...

And then it was gone.

Dalrus felt his eyes burning. He closed them, took in a deep breath, and tried to steady himself. _'Save him? Help Thrall? What's that supposed to mean? What am I supposed to do?'_

With a long, sad sigh, Dalrus stood up, then turned around.

Standing right before him was a tall, hooded man wearing a cloak adorned with raven feathers.

For a few moments, all Dalrus could do was stare at that old face. It was just as wrinkled as the orc's, except this one had a short, white beard covering his chin. He could have sworn he had seen those dark eyes staring into his somewhere...

As if by instinct, Dalrus cleared his throat and said: "Well, hello there. Terrible weather today, eh?"

The hooded man chuckled. Those thin lips reminded Dalrus of his uncle. "Do you always utilize humor when you don't know what else to say, young one?"

It took a moment for Dalrus to fully register what this man had just said. "I'm sorry, have we met before?"

The man's smile grew even wider. "Oh, yes. Our fates have indeed crossed before. I was quite curious what one so out of place as you were doing in this stage for a tragedy. A young, human boy, so far away from his home... And yet, not once, but twice, you did not hesitate to risk your life for the sake of others who are not even a part of your... Shall we say, alliances."

Dalrus looked back down before him at the corpse of Krek'thar, then up at this man once more. He had half expected him to vanish the moment he looked away, but no... He was still there. "Were you... Watching me? Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Who, indeed? A good question, one I've asked myself a few times before as well." The man brought one hand up to his chin to idly stroke his beard as he pondered. His hands were encased in thick, leather gloves. "You could say... I was once a guardian of this world. And now I'm trying to make ammends for my mistakes. And what about you, young one? Who are you, and why are you here?"

Dalrus blinked a few times, feeling very confused. Was this all a hallucination? Was he maybe still chasing the bird, then somehow tripped and hit his head? "I'm... Dalrus. Dalrus Plaguefang. I'm from Gilneas."

But the man was shaking his finger. "No, that is not the answer I'm looking for. Tell me again, Dalrus Plaguefang; who are you?"

Lowering this head, the young rogue thought about it. "I'm... A rogue. I left my city because I wanted to help defend it... I wanted to protect everyone back home. I want them to be safe from these demons and orcs."

"Aaah, now we come closer to a true answer, but I feel we are not quite there yet." Dalrus looked up once more, and somehow, now the man was holding a staff. He took a few steps towards Dalrus, then lowered his head until he was at the same level with the boy. "You are someone who is trying to take matters in his own hands, but also losing sight of what his true objective is. You are trying to make a difference on your own, but you are fumbling blindly in the darkness. You wish to help... But first, I think... You should help yourself."

Dalrus took a step back. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The stranger's dark eyes felt like they were piercing his blue ones and peering straight down his very soul. "You thought you could make use of this power for a greater good... But you are mistaken. You are only rushing to a terrible end of your own. Because you still don't understand who you are. You still don't realize what you must do. But even so... There is a noble heart in you. That orc spoke the truth. A grand fate awaits you." The stranger lifted his staff. Dalrus couldn't help but notice it's tip was adorned with a wooden raven carving. "But you are not yet prepared for it. You need to understand, Dalrus Plaguefang. Understand the threat of the Burning Legion, and the terror they will bring to this land unless they are fought back. In their folly, the Night Elves, much like you, believe they can stop this threat on their own. Bear witness, young one. Witness the fate of those who stand alone. And once you understand..." The man stood straight up once more, and slammed his staff against the ground. "We shall meet again. And your fate will unravel." And with that, the man began to shrink. His robes fell over his body, and a dark mist surrounding him. There was a bright glow of light... And where the man once stood, now stood the raven Dalrus had been chasing all this time.

The bird opened his dark beak, releasing a loud 'cawk!' before it began to beat it's wings and fly away, leaving a very confused rogue behind.

What came next... Was pure horror.

Empowered by the demon's blood, the Warsong were nigh unstoppable. Grommash made sure every last one of his warriors drank from the fountain. Those who didn't were put to the axe where they stood. Not many did, however. The bloody remains of the shaman, Krek'thar, served as a grim example to what would happen to those who did not embrace this power once more.

When the Night Elves launched their next attack against the Warsong, they were faced with a terrible surprise. Grommash opened the gates to his fortress, and the orcs poured out to meet their foes.

Despite their greater numbers and the blessings from their god, the Night Elves were pushed back. Their front line was eradicated by the sheer savagery of the fel orcs. It looked as if they no longer felt pain anymore. Even covered in arrows and missing limbs, they would still fight to their last breath, taking down more than their fair share of enemies with them.

The worst of all, however, was the rise of a new class of warrior amongst the Warsong orcs. The shamans were no more. Just like Krek'thar had said... The moment the dark waters touched their lips, the spirits abandoned them. To take their place, however, chaos warlocks stepped forward. Wielding dark, demonic powers, these warlocks could make dark fire rain from the skies, hex their enemies with terrible curses and bolster their allies with blinding rage, turning them into unstoppable juggernauts.

With the might of his fel orcs and the warlocks, Grommash began to gain ground. After repelling the first attack, the orcs crossed the river and engaged the first elven base.

It was safe to say, this was a completely unexpected tactic for the previous attackers. The Night Elves had come here to cleanse the orcs, not be fought back by them. Their bases had little defenses, as all their efforts had been focused into restoring the land and attacking the invaders.

Once again, Dalrus bore witness to the atrocities of the Warsong. But if they were fierce and savage before... Now they were truly beasts. He did not even want to think about the things he saw them do to the Night Elves and their beloved forests.

He did his best to help. Even if Cenarius wouldn't allow him to step foot on their bases, Dalrus could still do something on his own. He'd sneak into the orc bases, sabotage their supplies and war machines, poison their drinks and their food, and at one point he even managed to assassinate an orc captain. Alas, all he managed to do was slow them down. Even a single one of the fel orcs had the strength and ferocity of ten Night Elf rangers.

And then, there was Grommash.

The orc was like a force of nature. He was utterly unstoppable in battle. Wounds did nothing to him. His axe would leave gory and bloody trails in his wake, wherever he decided to tread. The second elf base took longer to be brought down... But ultimately, it was. And still, there was no sign of Cenarius.

It was only after the third and final one was put to the torch, and the last Night Elf warrior slaughtered, that finally Dalrus saw the demigod stop out of the woods once more.

Dalrus was hiding at the edges of the forest. He had hoped he could try to find survivors, and guide them to safety like he had done with Lyaera... But just like with their first two bases, there had been no escape to the Night Elves this time. They really did commit to fighting to the end this time. His only solace in all this was that he hadn't seen Lyaera amongst the corpses so far... That, at least, was some solace for him.

He watched as Cenarius appeared before Grommash and his warriors, his golden eyes taking in the carnage before him. "The demons did their job well. You creatures are as reckless and bloodthirsty as they ever were!"

Grommash spat. "We orcs are free, demigod!"

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Cenarius stomped the ground with his hooves once in his rage. "Despite what you may believe, you are no better than the malignant bile that flows through your veins."

And for a moment, Dalrus saw the shadow of doubt cross over Grommash's face, only for it to be almost immediately replaced with pure rage. Lifting Gorehowl with both hands, he charged at Cenarius. "Damn you! RAGH!"

Lifting his wooden claw-like arm towards his foe, Cenarius summoned several roots from deep underground. They wrapped themselves around Grommash's arms and legs, then around his torso and neck to bring down the mighty fel orc. "And I see even your intelligence has decayed as well. You truly are nothing more than a wild beast, blindly charging at whatever stands in front of you."

Grommash roared once more, making Dalrus wince. "You think your pathetic sorcery can stop me, demigod!? I am Grom Hellscream! Your puny plants are nothing to me! Nothing!" With another roar, this even louder than the previus one, Grommash strained every muscle in his body... And to Dalrus' absolutely horror, he stood up, the roots that attempted to bind him snapping and tearing before he brought Gorehowl down upon them. Now free to move once more, Grommash slammed his chest and resumed his charge against Cenarius. "LOK'TAR OGAR!"

It was clear the demigod was not expecting his prison to be broken so easily. Cenarius lifted himself to his hindlegs to prevent them from being cut clean off by Grommash's axe, then raised both his arms towards the sky, shouting: "Ana'doreini talah!"

Then, Dalrus had to leap back, as the tree he was hiding on began to move under him. And, he noticed, several others lifted their roots from the ground, their branches lowering and twisting themselves into arms so they could approach Grommash from all sides, surrounding the orc entirely.

"Pah! Is this your tactic, you coward? Bringing help because you are too weak to face me alone?" Grommash spat towards Cenarius, then turned his back to the god, Gorehowl raised high above his head with both hands. "Watch then, as I chop your beloved forest to splinters, and know you are next, demigod!"

Cenarius was constantly chanting, his eyes now emmiting a strong green glow. Dalrus counted no less than a dozen treats advancing against the defiant orc chieftain. As powerful as Cenarius may be, summoning so many minions at once must have been taxing, even for him. The first one brought it's trunk-like arms towards Hellscream, who nimbly dodged to one sinde before bringing Gorehowl against the treant's torso - or maybe that was a trunk too?

With a loud noise of cracking wood, Grommash almost split the treant entirely in half with a single blow. The wooden creature fell to it's side, and stopped moving.

Grommash then climbed on top of the treant's carcass and shouted to his troops: "WARRIORS! TO ME! THESE CREATURES ARE AS FEEBLE AS ANY TREE! CUT THEM DOWN TO THE LAST!" With warcries of their own, the rest of the Warsong joined the battle against the treants as Grom turned to face Cenarius once more.

The demigod had stopped his chanting. His golden eyes met Grommash's with deep scorn and hatred. "Are there no depths to which you will not sink, demonspawn?"

Grommash snickered. "Bark all you want, demigod. In the end, you will still die. And your beloved forest will fall with you." This time, Grommash's approach was more weary. His knees were bent, ready to jump out of harm's way if Cenarius attempted to summon his roots yet again. The demigod rose his wooden claw, and Dalrus saw the skies above darken. The winds suddenly grew stronger, and a draft so powerful that Dalrus was pushed against his back fell upon the battlefield.

Covering his face with one hand, Dalrus attempted to watch between his fingers. The new tree he was hiding behind now did little to protect him from those mighty gusts that knocked even the orcs off their feet. Grommash was on his knees on the ground, Gorehowl's blade buried into the ground so he could use it as a lever to steady himself. "Is this all you have, demigod!? Plants and wind?"

This time, Cenarius didn't bother answering. Instead, he rose his wooden arm once more. It looked as if he was unfazed by the winds he himself had summoned against the orcs. His treants were also unnafected, although, Dalrus noticed, there were less than half a dozen left now. A bright orb of golden light formed between Cenariu's wooden claws over his palm, then he hurled it towards the orc. "Nature's wrath upon you, hellspawn!"

Instead of dodging, Grommash simply roared in challenge and raised Gorehowl before him. The axe met the full force of Cenarius' spell. There was an explosion of energy so bright, Dalrus was dazzled and had to close his eyes again for a moment.

 _'What's going on? Where's Cenarius?'_ He desperately thought to himself, blinking as hard as he could to try and clear his sight faster.

He heard the distinct sound of metal hitting wood... Then, metal hitting flesh.

There was a painful cry of agony that seemed to echo throughout the entire forest around him.

The wind suddenly stopped.

Something large and heavy hit the ground.

And then... Grommash was roaring again.

"The Demigod has fallen, the Warsong is supreme!"


	31. Chapter 31 - Not alone

**Chapter 31 - Not alone**

A terrible knot formed in Dalrus' throat. His eyes were so wide, he thought they'd bulge out of his face. His entire body felt as if it were made of stone; numb, cold, unable to move. He couldn't couldn't blink, could barely breathe. As his eyesight slowly returned, he beheld the corpse of Cenarius, guardian of the forest, surrounded by a growing pool of his own blood as Grommash Hellscream shook his bloodied axe in the air to show off his glorious kill.

 _I told you, little one. Even gods can fall._

Dalrus closed his eyes, hard.

 _'Shut up.'_

 _There is only one thing in this universe that is eternal. Do you know what that is, little one?_

 _'Stop calling me that. Shut up.'_

 _Darkness is eternal. All things began with the Void. All things come from the Void. And in the end, all things shall return to the Void. Even this so called demigod. Even your beloved brother._

Dalrus was grinding his teeth, his palms now covering his ears. "Shut... Up..." He grunted under his breath.

 _'You know you cannot run from it. Embrace the call, little one. Accept it. Open yourself to the darkness... And let all your fears fade into nothingness.'_

The worst part now... Dalrus wasn't sure whose voice was saying that in his head. It really was getting worse, every day with this things. _There is no hope. Only despair. The only way to run from it... Is to be the bringer of despair yourself. Let others burn before you do. Go there... And with my power, claim the orc's life. Bathe in his blood, and let his minions know true fear for once._

Dalrus opened his eyes.

Dalrus stood up.

Dalrus took a step forward as he reached out for his swords...

And then he froze again.

 _'I know this feeling...'_

That sinister presence. The feeling that the very air was growing coarse and painful to inhale.

And those tremors every single time that beast took a step...

Looking to his side, Dalrus saw it once more. It was the same giant four-legged demon with the burning skull who had corrupted the fountain. It was appraching from between the trees while casually bringing them down as if they were nothing more than branches and twigs in it's path. If it were possible, Dalrus could swear the demon had the most malicious smile in it's face as it beheld the Warsong orcs and their triunfant leader. "Hello again, Grommash."

For the first time in his life, Dalrus saw Grom Hellscream flinch. The orc turned around to meet the demon... And he saw something in Hellscream's eyes he never thought he'd witness in an orc.

It was fear.

In a shaky voice, Grommash spoke: "Mannoroth! It... it can't be!"

The demon named Mannoroth let out a cruel chuckle and stopped just before Cenarius' corpse. It brought one of it's clawed feet against the demigod's head and kicked him over before returning his attention to Grommash. "I've come to bring you and your brethren back into the fold. Though you orcs failed the Burning Legion before, you will now serve us once again!"

Grommash stepped back, his face now twisted in a mixture of pain and fear. "No! We... Are free!"

Mannoroth laughed. An evil, dark laugh that chilled Dalrus down to his core. "Stupid, pitiful creatures. I am the rage of your heart. I am the fury of your thoughts. I alone empowered you to bring chaos to this world, and by the endless void, you shall!"

Grommash fell to his knees, Gorehowl falling from his grasp as he clasped his head with both hands. "No... No! We... We cannot..."

"Orcs of the Warsong clan!" Mannoroth shouted over Grommash's pathetic whimpering. "Step forward, and salute your new master! Once more you are given the honor of fighting and dying for the Burning Legion, and for the great Archimonde who once more walks this wretched earth!" Raising his wicked, giant double-bladed weapon in the air, Mannoroth let out a heinous howl.

There was a moment of hesitation that seemed to stretch through infinity. Then, as one, the orcs raised their weapons and howled in turn.

Hellscream was still on his knees.

"Stand up, miserable whelp." Mannoroth spoke, his voice heavy with disgust. "For killing Cenarius, you have earned your place among our ranks. But continue to challenge me and your corpse shall serve as an example for all those foolish enough to do so as well."

Grommash's shoulders slumped. His arms fell to either side of his body. Then, slowly, he reached out for his axe and stood up. The orc tightened his grip on his mighty weapon and lifted his head to behold Mannoroth's burning green eyes.

"As you wish... Lord Mannoroth. We fight for the Legion."

The world began to spin under Dalrus. His vision went dark. The last thing he heard before darkness consumed him was Mannoroth's maniacal laughter echoing in his mind.

 _There is only despair._

 _There is only fear._

 _There is only death._

 _You know this._

 _You have felt this._

 _Why fight?_

 _Why continue to struggle and suffer?_

 _Why not keep your eyes closed... Let yourself fall into this dream._

 _Dream, little one... And know your nightmares too will come to haunt you._

 _Felrus..._

Dalrus opened his eyes.

He was laying on his back, arms and legs sprawled around him. Lifting his head made his brain ache like it was being stabbed, so he kept it resting against the grassy ground under him. The night sky above was hidden behind thick, dark clouds. His surroundings were covered in darkness, but he could hear the sound of running water nearby, which made him certain that somehow he was in a different place from before.

Then, amidst the dark night sky, he saw a darker spot moving, like a shadow hidden within another shadow. It was getting bigger... No. It was getting closer, spiraling down towards him before it left his camp of view.

He heard something light landing on the ground not too far from him, along with the sound of beating wings. And then... A voice he had heard before. "Now do you understand?"

It still hurt to move... But, fortunately, not to speak. "Understand what? That there are demons out there trying to kill everyone?"

"No, boy." Dalrus heard footsteps approaching him, as well as that distinct noise of a cane hitting the ground. "I wanted to know if you understand that there are fates far worse than death. To become a slave to a dark power that is stronger than you. Stronger than your will. A power that can destroy your identity and fill you with... Something else."

Dalrus closed his eyes again. He remembered that moment when Grommash had drunk the blood of Mannoroth from the fountain... And the old shaman who had preferred to die a free orc than to submit himself to the demonic taint once more. "How can someone choose to do this to themselves? How can someone willing and knowingly let things go that far?"

He heard a snicker. Dalrus opened his eyes once more. The old hooded man's face was staring down at him from above, an amused smile stretching his dry, thin lips. "I think you, better than anyone, would know the answer to that question. But if you don't, I'm certain that thing lurking inside your mind would be happy to provide an answer."

Dalrus' heart sunk. "So... You can tell?"

"Anyone with a modicum of sensitivity can tell, boy. Although my perception is, shall we say... Higher than most. So I can tell exactly what is trying to drag you down the abyss every time you open the door to let it in." The man's smile was gone, replaced by a stern look of disapproval. "You think you're doing the right thing, sacrificing yourelf to wield this double-edged sword. Much like the foolish orc chieftain, you don't realize you're only dooming yourself and everyone you care for."

Dalrus wanted to avert his gaze, to turn around and end this conversation. But his body felt like he was chained to the floor. "What am I supposed to do, then? If I don't use this power, what can I even do on my own?"

He heard the man slam his staff against the ground. "Nothing! And that is the point!" Maybe it was Dalrus' impression... But the man's eyes were no longer dark. It was like they had a faint blue glow deep within them now. "If you try to shoulder your burdens alone, you are doomed to failure and misery. Only by standing together... By relying on your allies, and making sure they can rely on you, can you accomplish something. Or are you so arrogant you think you can stop the threat of the Burning Legion on your own?"

Squinting, Dalrus peered deep into the man's eyes. "OK, for real now. Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?"

The man stood up straight, then peered up at the dark, starless sky. "I have already told you who I am. But you still haven't told me who you are, young Dalrus Plaguefang. You do not yet understand what your role in this story is. What destiny lies in wait for you. But I hope that at least, now you understand better what you are meant to do." The man peered back at Dalrus, then lowered his staff against the boy's head. The wooden raven's beak touched his forehead, and suddenly there was a bright, purple light, with a vast circular seal appearing above his face. "Oh, I see... So you are the one attempting to consume this boy. Isn't he far too small a meal for one such as you?"

It was pain unlike anything he had ever felt before, like a hedghog was rolling against his skull and reassembling his entire brain during the process. Dalrus arched his beack and screamed at the top of his lungs...

And then, for the first time, Dalrus heard the voice not simply echoing within his mind, but also ringing in his ears. _"You think you can seal me, wizard? Your magic is nothing before my power. You cannot banish me from the boy's mind with your meager spells."_

The young rogue attempted to grip his head to try and releave the searing hot pain shooting through his brain... But then it really felt like his limbs were chained to the ground, immobilizing him. "Oh, how mistaken you would be, Old one. But fortunately for you, I have neither the time nor the desire to expunge you completely. For now... It is sufficient that I weaken your grasp over him."

 _"This changes nothing! You merely delay the inevitable. He will call upon me again. He knows he is nothing without my power. And even if he doesn't, he cannot escape the call. He already belongs to the Void, wizard, and soon you too shall be devoured by it!"_

"Yes, yes, a fascinating tale. But now, be silent!" Lifting his hand, the hooded man chanted some ancient words of power Dalrus did not understand. The glow above his head intensified to the point it was blindingly bright, and he was certain his head would split in two from the pain. And then... It was gone.

All of it.

His eyes opened up again. And then he sat up. There was no more pain. No more whispers. No more homicidal impulses.

Looking around, he spotted the wizard standing besides the corrupted fountain where the Warsong orcs had obtained their fel powers from. "What... Did you just do to me?" The rogue asked as he stood up fully.

Without looking back, the man said: "I have pushed the darkness inside you back for a bit. But be warned... It is but a temporary solution. And I can tell it wasn't the first time you had this done to you. I don't think you'd survive a third attempt." The wizard stroked his chin in deep thought, his eyes glued to the corrupt red waters of the pool. "Well, your body would. But I fear your mind would be left in shatters. A terrible waste."

Dalrus also looked at the pool. He saw those twisted, dark energies swirling deep within the crimson water, and felt a knot twist in his stomach. "So... Can you teach me how to use this power without killing myself?"

This time, the wizard turned to look at him with a condescendent smile on his face. "So you still don't know the answer? I wonder... Is it fear for yourself, or fear for others that keep you from reaching the truth on your own? No matter. It is already within your grasp. You'll understand soon enough." Turning himself fully, the man walked away from the fountain, then raised his staff in the air before him. "Alas... I do believe you have wasted anough time at this place, young Dalrus Plaguefang. It is a pity you were unable to reach all the answers you need... But perhaps it is too soon for you yet. For the time being, you must carry on with your destiny. I believe there are some people who could use your aid, no?"

Tha air before the wizard began to shimmer, taking the shape of a fuzzy magical cloud. In it's center was a more clear, circular area... And inside, Dalrus saw his brother side by side with a pair of other soldiers in what appeared to be a dark cave, fighting off skeletal warriors in rusty old armor.

"Felrus!" The rogue shouted, stepping forward with one hand outstretched as if he intended to jump in to help them, then stopping himself just before he actually touched the magical mirror cloud thing.

"Yes... Your brother and your young leader need you right now, rogue. The time has come for you to join them again." The wizard waved his staff. The magical cloud grew and became a swirling vortex of energy, through which he could see nothing but darkness on the other side. "Go. We shall meet again, young Dalrus."

His eyes shifted from the portal (?) to the wizard. "OK... Look, uhm, sir... I'm very grateful you finally let me be alone with my thoughts for a while and all, but..." He scratched his head. "Why are you helping me out like this? At least that much I think it's fair for you to tell me. And please, in a direct and metaphor-less manner."

The old wizard smiled again. "Indeed? 'Fair' is an interesting word for me to be hearing, here of all places. Very few things in this world are fair, young Dalrus... But I have already told you. I happen to be more perceptive than most... And I have perceived you have a grand role to play in the upcoming events. It is no coincidence that you are here today. Destiny has dealt it's hand, my young Gilnean. It is time for you to deal yours."

It was a real struggle not to roll his eyes, but Dalrus did squint. "Wow, thank you so much. That is such a good and direct answer, I think I'm going to step through this portal now. Take care, uh... Mr. Prophet, sir." He turned to look at the chaotic, dark energies of the portal before him, and readied himself for the worst. _'Well, wherever I'm going, I'm pretty sure it can't be worse than having to deal with a bunch of demon-blood infused crazy orcs and their giant demon lord.'_ And with that cheerful thought in his mind, Dalrus stepped through the portal.

As far as magical portal rides went, this had to be the smoothest one Dalrus had ever gone through. One moment, he was in that dark meadow with the evil corrupted fountain and the cryptic magical old man, the next his sight was filled with a dark purple cloud while his ears began to fill up as if he were underwater. And right after that his foot landed on the ground, and he was in a dark cave surrounded by tall stone walls with dangerous-looking stalactites hanging from the ceiling above. The air felt very warm and moist there, and it disoriented him a little. The young rogue would have spared a short while to accostume himself to the lack of light and better take in his surroundings, but then he heard the sounds of battle. Men and women shouting, steel banging against steel, and a very ominous clattering that was definitely not human. _'Oh, well... At least I won't get bored.'_ He thought to himself, then moved forward towards the source of the noise.

The cave split into two paths ahead. To his left was a steep cliff, overseeing a large room within the cavern. To his right, there was a vast sea of fire that flowed into an underground opening. And to the left, the ground was made of sculpted stone, with two passageways leading further into the cave. Over the entrance of one of those passages, Dalrus spotted the members of the Human Expedition. There were quite a few of them; humans, dwarves, elves and gnomes, all clad in stained combat armor or tattered robes and fending off an army of skeletal soldiers wearing dusty, broken old armor and wielding weapons in the same state. The worst of all, however, was what appeared to be an enormous suit of armor the size of an ogre with wicked horns coming out of it's helm slowly advancing on the defenders. He had to assume it was some golem of sorts, for he couldn't see any flesh under the gaps in the armor.

And at the front lines fighting that metallic golem along with other knights and soldiers, was his brother Felrus. His helmet was nowhere to be seen, so the fierce look in his eyes was unmistakeable, even in that dark place.

Dalrus immediately knew what he had to do. _'Well, the hero is always fashionably late.'_ He thought to himself, pulling out his swords, stepping towards the edge of the cliff and...

He hesitated.

 _He will call upon me again. He knows he is nothing without my power. And even if he doesn't, he cannot escape the call. He already belongs to the Void, wizard, and soon you too shall be devoured by it!_

His eyes closed, and he took in a deep breath.

He heard a scream.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the metal golem had slammed it's fist down against the defending soldiers, sending two of them flying off in different directions while his brother fell on his back. When the golem lifted it's hand once more, it left behind a crater on the floor, under which Felrus' shield lay crumpled like an old parchment.

 _'Oh, bugger that!'_

With a grunt, called in the power of the Void. It enveloped his weapons in a thick layer of purple shadow energy, making them look even bigger and longer than before. _'Answer this, you dry old coot. I'm not gonna let my brother die like that.'_ He then took a few steps back to gain some leverage, only to run forward once more, this time leaping off the edge of the cliff and down towards the golem.

With a well timed shadowstep, Dalrus twisted himself in the air and teleported behind the iron golem. Then, he brought both his shadow-infused weapons down against the creature's 'neck' with two successive slashes. His weapons sliced clean through the metal, and the helmet was completely detached from it's body. Looking down, Dalrus realized the armor really was completely empty. His momentum made him fall over the hollow armor case, the rogue curling his body and performing a barrel roll against the ground to cushin his fall, after which he stood up straight with a little leap, right before the puzzled figure of his fallen brother. With a wide grin on his face, Dalrus sheathed one of his swords and extended his gloved hand towards Felrus. "Hey, Fel. Need a hand?"


	32. Chapter 32 - The battle goes on

**Chapter 32 - The battle goes on**

Those past few weeks had been quite the hardship for Felrus Plaguefang.

First, it had been the constant attacks by the Warsong while they were still set at the base of the Stonetalon peaks. At first, the attacks were harmless enough - nothing but harassment from a bunch of crazy, warmongering orcs - but things really changed when the rest of the Horde arrived, and this time with the aid of new allies, the trolls. With their full might, the camps of the Human Expedition were unable to hold out for long and they fell, one by one. Lady Jaina had given the order to retreat not long after that, ordering them to move to and reinforce the bases at the mountain peaks. As if that weren't enough, the orcs gave chase. Not many days after that, they launched a new attack... And this time with even more, new allies. It appeared they made some sort of deal with the native Tauren from Thunderbluff, but the mighty bovine creatures were now fighting alongside the Horde's young warchief Thrall. And on top of that, they even managed to capture and tame some of the native creatures of the mountains - huge bat-like beasts named 'wyverns' - which allowed them to go toe to toe with the dwarven griffon riders and their storm hammers. Once more, the Human Expedition tasted defeat.

Just as all hope seemed lost, Lady Jaine had declared she and the other mages had sensed something. It would appear that deep within the caves that went far into the mountains, there was some sort of energy source beckoning her. She had declared that they could utilize this energy to fight off the Horde once and for all. With no choice left, and as their bases were attacked and destroyed behind them, the members of the Human Expedition were forced to flee into the caves after their young leader.

None of that, however, could compare to the loss of his younger brother.

The news had come from the only survivor of the group who had foolishly decided to stay back and engage Grommash's group during that first day of battle. A gnome engineer by the name of Sticks Hardbones had claimed that, just as death was about to take him, he had been saved by a scruffy-looking young human with dark hair and daggers that looked like fangs. He had been discovered unconscious under the body of a dead orc while the members of the Gilneas Brigade were searching for survivors. Apparently, he was so small, he was completely hidden until the orc warrior's body was lifted over to reveal the tiny man. It was a day later when he shared his news with Felrus, who was desperate to hear news from Dalrus, who had gone missing ever since that battle - even from the other spies and scouts in their camp.

"Gosh, I was scared out of my wits! I had never been in a battle like that before." The gnome had personally told Felrus when he was visited in the medical bay. "I thought I was gonna die, I really did! Then there was that Hellscream fellow... Boy, how could anyone look at him and still move, I wouldn't know! If it weren't for my Automated Robotic Avian Walker Mark IV's self-defensive and maneuvering protocols, I'd have been sliced in half a dozen times over!"

Felrus had absolutely no idea what those words even meant, but he had nodded in understanding nonetheless. "I... See. And that's when you saw my brother?"

Sticks had taken a deep sigh, then lowered his head in shame. "Yes, that's right... My Automated Robotic Avian Walker Mark IV was damaged, you see, and I fell over... I was about to say my prayers when suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind, and began to carry me under their arm. It was so fast, I could barely see anything... Next thing I knew, we were both in the air. I remember that very clearly, and I swear I'll never forget what happened next to the end of my days." The little man's hands curled into little fists, and Felrus could see those huge round eyes grow wet as the gnome tried to hold back his tears. "It's burned into my mind, like a picture... I saw that boy. Oh, goodness, I'll never forget him... The same human boy who came to my workshop the other day, who was so nice and so curious about my works... I'm sure it was him. He had scruffy black hair, and all his clothes were dark, too... And he had those weapons with him, looking like a beast's fangs. The last thing I saw was Grom Hellscream grabbing him by the back of his tunic. After that, the sky fell over my head, and I passed out." The gnome then sobbed uncontrollably and covered his face with his hands. "Oh, curse this meek body of mine! Curse my cowardice! If only I had been more brave, or maybe if I had made a few more adjustments to my Automated Robotic Avian Walker Mark IV... It's all my fault! He gave his life to save mine!"

Felrus himself was struggling very hard to hold back his tears. The only thing that kept him going... His only ray of hope... Was that Dalrus' body had never been found. Felrus knew his brother well. If there ever was someone capable of escaping the grasp of Grommash Hellscream and living to tell the tale... It would be his younger brother. Ever since they were children, Dalrus would always pull of tricks like that - especially to escape his duties. Felrus would often hear his brother was missing or running away from their uncle or his tutors. More amazing than the lenghts they would go to keep watch over Dalrus and ensure he wouldn't sneak off again were the measures the boy would take to circumvent them. Once, their father had hired a personal bodyguard to keep constant watch over Dalrus during the boy's every waking hour. It had taken an entire day for them to find the poor man bound and gagged within the broom closet, while Dalrus showed up only three days later announcing he was no longer allowed inside Gilneas' bakery, or anywhere near the baker's daughter.

After their defeat at the hands of the horde, Felrus' hope of seeing his brother again began to wane. Several days' after his dissappearance, captain Lyafra had made an official statemand that Dalrus was Missing in Action. That hit Felrus like a blow to his gut. He had personally volunteered to join any teams dedicated to searching for him or other prisioners at the hands of the orcs. Rescue missions, however, were out of the question, considering it was all they could do to hold their own against the relentless attacks from both the main orcish horde and tha Warsong clan.

When the news that they would be abandoning the bases at the mountain foot in favor for the ones at the peaks came, Felrus was among the few who protested and said they should hold their position until the end. Alas, it was to no effect. Their hold on the passage to Stonetalon was compromised, and their best option was to retreat to the peaks and fortify their defenses there, where the dwarves and gnomes would ensure they had aerial superiority.

Then the news came that the Warsong was on the move to elswhere elsewhere while Thrall and the rest of the Horde gave chase. This gave some hope to the members of the Human Expedition... One that was short lived. Not long after that, reports that the leader of the tauren was seen alongside Thrall made everyone wary again. And when the Horde launched another attack, it was a complete surprise to see them coming from above, riding the savage wyverns. With their only advantage crushed, they had no choice but to follow Jaina's lead into those caves... And still, there was no sign of his brother.

And then... There was the worgen bite.

Felrus had done his best to hide it, but only a blind fool wouldn't notice the thick patch of snow-white fur that was surrounding his shoulder, no matter how much time Felrus spent shearing himself with a razor every night. It would just grow up again in a matter of hours. Not just that... But even his body overall felt... Different. For one, he was absolutely certain he had grown at least two inches. All his clothes felt small for him, and even his armor had to be changed for bigger one. And he could swear his senses were sharper somehow. Every morning when he woke up, he could smell the scent of the soldiers' breakfast being cooked all the way from their barracks. Every time a person spoke to him, he could immediately tell what the last thing they ate was. At night, his vision was far sharper, and he could see as if the sky was a full moon with no clouds, every night, no matter how dark it was. And he was absolutely certain his teeth felt bigger in his mouth. HIs most noticeable physical change, however, was the thick white beard had grown over his entire chin and jawline, with a mustache already threatening to break through his upper lip.

Another useful aspect of his changes were the fact that, with his increased size and strength, regular one handed weapons had become far too small and light for him. He now carried a thick two handed sword strapped to his back, one he could easily wield with a single arm.

He was very reluctant to explain these symptoms to the healers, as they might fear the lad was cursed, or something along those lines. Instead, he had simply showed them the vial with the last few drops the healer back in Gilneas had given him, and asked if they could somehow produce more, saying it was for his burn scar. The Brigade's chemists had only managed to use those leftover drops to produce a bit more of his medicine, which was already dangerously close to running out.

Worst of all those symptons, however, were those strange... Urges he felt. Whenever he felt angry, Felrus had the instinctive urge to bare his teeth and snarl at them. When he fought, he had to make a constant, conscious effort to stop himself from biting his foes like a beast. He found himself with a new taste for red meat... And the rarer it was, the better.

Deep within his mind... He already had a very good idea of what this all meant, and what was happening to him. He refused to give in, however. He refused to accept and allow this... Whatever it was to consume him. He had a duty to perform. He had people to protect.

He had his brother to find.

And so, like everyone else, he had followed Lady Jaina into the caves within the mountains in search for this strange energy source that appeared to be their last hope in this foreign, desolate land. He did not hesitate to join the frontlines as they advanced through what appeared to be ancient ruins dug and sculpted inside of the mountain itself. As they advanced, they ran into all sorts of nightmares and challenges. Spiders the size of horses that spat venom that could melt a man within his armor, magical revenants that unleashed terrible spells against them, deadly traps that claimed more than one unaware soldier's life, undead warriors eager to defend this domain even in undeath... And to make things worse, their scouts warned them that the orcs and the tauren were following them, even inside that dark, hostile place.

"Are they bent on annihilating us to the last man?" One of his fellow soldiers was speaking as they advanced through those dark corridors, te only sources of light being the occasional rivers of fire and a magical orb of light that Lady Jaina had summoned to help them see. "Light, help me... I don't want to die. I didn't come to this place to die!"

"We are not going to die, get a bloody hold of yourself you halfwit!" Felrus snapped, his eyes suddenly turning into vertical slits as his lips peeled back and showing off his sharp canine fangs, which had grown at least twice their normal size. Too late, he realized his error, then turned his face away in shame. Fortunately for him, the soldier was so surprised he fumbled back and fell against the other one right next to him, making both collapse against the floor.

This made the entire company stop their advance, then shift their attention to the disturbance at their front. With his heart drumming in his chest, Felrus stood up straight as their captain turned around to scream at them. "What in the Light's name is the meaning of this!? We have enough troubles without you fools tripping over one another!"

"S-sir!" The scared soldier said, getting up and lifting his helm's visor to show the face of a man almost twice Felrus' age. "This gilnean dog just snarled at me, threatened to rip my guts out, he did!"

"Be quiet!" The captain, snapped, then turned to face Felrus. Maybe unbenkownst to his accuser, Felrus had actually worked quite a reputation among the troops. He was always the first to volunteer to battle at the front, and would often cover longer shifts during watch than anyone else. His prowess in battle was nothing to bat an eye at either, considering he would always emerge covered in blood and none of it being his own. This had earned him the little nickname of 'The Blood Knight'. He wasn't particularly fond of the title, but he figured it was better than having people trashing him just for the fact he was Gilnean... Like this man was. "Plaguefang." The captain said. "What say you in your defense?"

Felrus took in a deep breath, then lifted his visor as well, his bright blue eyes staring into his captain's through the holes in his helmer. "Sir. I believe morale is low, and we are all very much on edge here. I apologize for snapping at my fellow soldier like that. It was a lapse in discipline from my part. I will accept whatever punishment you seem fit."

It was then that Lady Jaina herself showed up, her left palm high in the air and holding the magical orb that was their main source of light. "What seems to be the problem, captain? Are we under attack?"

The captain shook his head, then turned to meet their leader. "No, madam. The shadows are playing tricks on the soldier's eyes, and they appear to be a little on edge. Nothing we need concern ourselves with. I'm certain after this huge waste of our time, they will have remembered to mantain their discipline and their wits about them." The captain's eyes glared in Felrus' direction, then at the whimpering soldier who stood still like a statue. His face looked like he was on the verge of tears.

To this, the young mage woman turned to face the soldiers, a sorrowful look on her face. "I'm sorry we must endure such terrible hardships, but I promise you... Safety is up ahead. We need only press on a little further."

Suddenly, the whimpering soldier stepped forward and spoke: "You've been saying that for days now! Look where we are! Fumbling through dark caves with orcs at our heels and monsters at every turn! You've brought us all to our deaths, is what you did!"

"Silence this fool!" The captain shouted, to which Felrus and the other soldier immediately grabbed the man by his arms and brought him down in an immobilizing hold. The man was now trashing and screaming: "I don't want to die here! I didn't run from Lordaeron only to meet my end in a dark cave with nobody to mourn me!"

Low chatter and murmurs were going through the ranks of the Human Expedition now. People were beggining to grow restless. Felrus felt his worry rise. This could very well be the spark to ignite the barrel of tension this group was becoming.

It was that moment that a high pitched, yet male voice spoke out: "So what would you have us do, then? Should we turn back and run? Is that what you suggest?"

Everyone looked around for the source of those words. Felrus had a pretty good idea who it was, but it was difficult to believe. "You damn right! Hightail out of this place and look for someplace else to live in, away from all this damned fighting!" The soldier under him still managed to speak, even as Felrus pressed his armored shoulder against the man's back.

"Well, friend, I don't know about you, but I didn't come here to flee! I came here because, like everyone else, I believed in something!" Slowly, people began to part, and there, standing up on his ridiculous mechanical bird mount, was the gnome Sticks Hardbones. "I believed in Lady Jaina when she said here we'd find the only way to defend our homes! We all did. I have a family back in the Eastern Kingdoms, people I want to keep safe, and that's why I came! And ever since coming to this place... I have seen bad things!" The gnome then pressed something on his robotic bird mount, and suddenly his seat was elevated, making him stand even taller than most people there. "I have seen people, good people, getting hurt and dying. One even died to save me! So what would their deaths mean if we decided to run now? What would happen then? All the pain, all the hardships we have already been through would have been for nothing! And if we just run now, then all the things we have left to defend will also get hurt. And I don't want that to happen, friend! So if you want to run, you go and run on your own! Because I'm not! I'm moving forward! Because I believe that is the only way left to go without giving up all hope!"

Everyone was silent when the gnome's speech was over. He himself looked very embarrassed to be having so much attention focused on him, and quickly attempted to lower his seat once more. "I-I mean, t-that is, ah... If, you know, if everyone thinks the same way..."

"No, you're right, little one." The one who spoke was none other than Halford Wyrmbane, the paladin warrior who acted as second in command for the Expedition. The man trotted forward, mounted on a tall warhorse, wearing his signature blue and golden armor with details resembling a dragon's claws and scales. "That was very well said. We all have a reason to fight. A reason to keep moving forward. Even during these dark, trying times... This is when our resolve must be stronger than ever. We must always move forward, without fear, without hesitation. The Light is with us, brothers and sisters. Our salvation lies ahead, with death stands in our way." And with that, the paladin unsheathed his sword and held it high above his head. "I say, do not fear the unknown! We stand together, as one! We, who belong to different kingdoms, different species, are now all together facing our greatest threat since the first invasion of the Horde! And together, we shall conquer the darkness once more! For the Alliance!"

Many people mimicked Wyrmbane's cheer. Felrus himself realized he was smiling. Lady Jaina was a capable person, to be sure, having lead everyone this far already... But men like Halford Wyrbane were the kind of people who keep the soldiers together in crisis like these. The paladin was a true beacon of hope. Maybe one day, the young mage would reach that point as well.

The paladin tugged on the reins of his horse and assumed the lead. "I shall take the front for now, captain, if you can forgive me wrestling command from your hands for a while now."

The captain simply gave the paladin a salute. "It is an honour to serve under you, commander. Lead, and we shall follow."

Wyrmbane nodded, then looked down at the man restrained by Felrus and the other soldier. "And what about you, soldier? Is your resolve faltering?"

The man lowered his head in shame. "M'lord, I... I'm sorry, sir. I was just so scared, I... Please, forgive me. I promise I won't trip over like this again. I got a wife and a daughter and... Light help me, I just want to see them again..."

"Don't forget you are also fighting for them." Felrus suddenly cut in. "They are waiting for you. And they are counting on you to keep them safe."

"Well said, young Plaguefang." Wyrmbane praised. "Well, soldier? Will you take up arms once more and help defend your family?"

The man was now crying, thick tears running down his wrinkly cheeks. "Aye, sir! I swear, I won't let a single nasty orc touch them!" With that, the paladin nodded towards Felrus and his companion. The two released the soldier and stood up, forming a phalanx around Wyrmbane and his warhorse. "Forward, then!" And with that, marching resumed for the troops.

The challenges were not lacking. They came across pitfall traps, ambushes by the undead or the monstrous spiders, or even physical barriers like walls of flame or magical bridges that required certain artifacts to be unlocked. Lives were lost, but nonetheless, they persevered, refusing to give up hope. And then, eventually, they reached that wide cavernous area, with a river of fire to one side, and a passage straight ahead of them.

They had barely stepped into that area when once again their resolve was put to the test... This time when over a dozen skeleton warriors and archers rose from the ground to face them, and from the passageway they intended to cross came forward a gigantic suit of armor with nothing inside, moving on it's own towards them.

Felrus raised his shield and pulled his great sword from his back, as did this fellow soldiers unsheathe their blades. The mages in the backline already began to chant their spells as Wyrbane shouted: "For the Light!" And with a rallying shout, they advanced to meet those monstrosities.

The skeletal soldiers were clad in extremely old armor almost entirely devoured by rust. Their weapons, however, seemed to be just as sharp as they day they were forged. One skeleton warrior attempted to slash at Felrus, however, having a weapon with far greater reach, his strike hit first. His massive sword hit the skeleton at it's shoulder, where it served the purpose of a mace moreso than a sword, as the bones were completely crushed by the impact. Felrus continued to bring his weapon down until it got stuck halfway down across the skeleton's rusty old chestplace.

A second undead soldier approached Felrus. This time, the warrior had to lift his shield to block the blow, his weapon momentarily trapped inside the fallen skeleton before him. With a mighty grunt, Felrus took a heavy step forward and slammed his shield against the second skeleton's chest, which sent the creature flying a respectable distance away from him, where it lay helpless on the ground long enough for another one of the soldiers to dispatch it before it could recover. Felrus took advantage of that moment to firmly plant his booted foot against the skeleton he had just defeated and pulled his sword free from it's ribcage. That moment, he heard someone shout: "It's too strong! Our spells are having no effect!"

Felrus looked up. The metal golem was advancing towards the Human Expedition members who were gathered near the tunnel entrance where they had come through. He saw magical bolts of gleaming arcane power, frozen spears of pure ice and glowing, searing orbs of flame being launched towards the golem, only to burst against it's armored chest or shatter all over it's armor to little effect other than slowing down it's advance.

"The spellcasters need us! Soldiers, defend them! Stop that creature!" Wyrmbane shouted from somewhere ahead. Felrus saw the paladin still on top of his horse, trampling accross the battlefield and swinging his holy sword against the undead, his other hand raised high above his head and emanating a golden, warm glow that enveloped his body. The skeletal archers on the other end of the cave were steadily shooting their arrows at the paladin, but their projecticles appeared to be bouncing off harmlessly that divine barrier he had unleashed. "Defend our backline! If we lose Lady Jaina, it is all over!"

Without hesitation, Felrus rushed back to where the main group was along with two more soldiers who weren't busy engaged with the skeletal soldiers. Standing side by side with them, he raised his shield and braced himself, sword in hand above his head. "Don't falter now!" He shouted, watching the metal golem approach them.

The creature really was enormous. He figured even an ogre could wear that armor comfortable. It's helmet had a visor shaped like a T with huge, cruel-looking horns sticking out it's sides. From what he could see, the insides of that helm were completely empty. Spells continued to bounce of it's body, and even arrows and spears were having little more effect. "We must strike at a weak point!" He heard Lady Jaina shout behind him, to which a second nameless mage replied: "But where? It's entire body is an enchanted suit of armor!"

Felrus had no time to think. That moment, the metal golem had reached him and his group. It lifted one gigantic hand above it's head, then, with surprising speed for a being of that size and weight, the golem brought it's fist down like a meteor against Felrus and his fellow soldiers.

A few weeks ago, a blow like that would have spelled the warrior's end. Thanks to his sharpened reflexes, however, Felrus was just a fraction of a second faster than that hammer-like arm. Letting go of his weapon and shield, he took a leap backwards. The golem's fist slammed the ground with such force, all three soldiers were sent flying, with Felrus landing heavily on his back. A bit disoriented, he lifted his head in time to see the golem lift it's hand once more, but this time it was readying it's other arm to punch Felrus right where he lay. His shield had been flattened like a pancake by the previous attack, so he had no doubts what would happen if he was hit by another blow. _'I can't die like this... Dalrus...'_ He frantically looked around for anything he could use to defend himself. His sword was laying a few steps away from him, out of reach. The mages were still attempting to conjure up a spell powerful enough to destroy the golem. Felrus didn't know much about magic, but he remembered that one of it's most basic lessons was that the more powerful the spell, the longer it would take to conjure it successfully.

There was no one who could save him now.

 _'Brother... I hope you are OK, wherever you are. Forgive me for failing you...'_ Felrus closed his eyes, and readied himself for his death.

Just as he did, however, he caught a glimpse of something, an instant before before darkness took over his vision. It almost looked like a shadow materializing in the air behind the metal golem. The next moment, he heard something... Like the sound of slashing blades slicing through metal. He then heard something very big and very heavy fall against the floor not too for from where he was, and a second later, something even bigger collapsed as well.

Felrus opened his eyes.

Right before his eyes was an outstretched hand, clad in a dark leather glove, offering itself to help him up once again. Attached to that hand was a thin arm belonging to a teenager boy fresh out of his blooming. That arm was connected to a somewhat short body, wearing a dark tunic covered in tears and cuts, and over that, a black leather jacket. From the waist down, his savior were a thick belt, from which was hanging a very familiar looking weapon... Although it also look radically different from before, sporting details Felrus didn't remember being there, on top of looking big enough to pass for a short sword now. Below the waist, he wore trousers that were also covered in cuts and tears, giving the appearance it's wearer had been out in the wild on his own for a very long time. He also wore fine-looking leather boots, similar to the ones Felrus himself possessed, being a gift from his father.

He looked up at his savior's face.

His hair was scruffier than ever now, black as the night and hanging around his face like thorns. His bright blue eyes were staring straight into Felrus', and he was sporting that same cocky grin he always did, as if somehow he was one step ahead of everyone else in the room. Then, Felrus heard this scruffy, arrogant looking boy with his hand outstretched for him speak:

"Hey, Fel. Need a hand?"


	33. Chapter 33 - Reunited

**Chapter 33 - Reunited**

It felt as if time had stopped for Felrus. Even the mages who had been so adamant in unleashing their most devastating spells against that hulking suit of enchanted armor just a few seconds earlier were now staring dumbfolded at it's fallen carcass, and the grinning lad who stood there with his hand outstretched for the fallen warrior.

As if by instinct, Felrus' gauntleted hand rose up to take hold of the rogue's, and with his help, the warrior stood up. He saw Dalrus furrow his brows, as he had to lift his head to look his brother in the eye. "Did you get taller?" He said, one hand raising to his own forehead, then going up to Felrus' to gauge the height difference between them. "Bloody hell, Fel. What have you been eating while I was away?"

"Dalrus?" Felrus finally said, staring into his brother's eyes while he simply stood there with a shocked expression on his face.

His grin grew even wider, and the young rogue struck a dramatic pose, fists resting upon his hips while stuffing his chest out and lifting his chin. "The one and only, thank you very much! Looks like you need some help, eh bro?"

Felrus blinked, the realization of what was going on slowly dawning onto him. "Dalrus." He repeated out loud. "You're here. You're alive?"

To that, Dalrus' grin suddenly vanished, his face turning into an expression of fear and confusion. "Woah, I-I don't know, hold on, let me check..." He then saw his younger brother put his weapon back in his belt's holster, remove one of his gloves and slide his now bare fingers under his other glove to gain access to his own pulse. Then there was a loud sigh of relief from the youth, who nodded towards Felrus. "Good news! I think I am alive! But what do I know, I'm not a doctor. Maybe we need a more professional opinion."

Good Light, it really was him. Tears welled up in Felrus' eyes as he suddenly surged forward and wrapped his arms around his brother's waist, lifting him off the ground in a tight bear hug. "Light bless you, brother, it really is you! You're not dead! You're really here!" He practically shouted the words, a huge, silly smile on his face while Dalrus squirmed and protested under the might of Felrus' hug. "Gah- Fel, you're gonna break my ribs! Bloody hell, when did you get this strong!?"

There was a cough from behind them. Turning around, Felrus noticed it was Lady Jaina who approached them and had cleared her throat to draw their attention. "I'm sorry for interrupting your reunion, and I assure you, I myself am very curious as to how you have found us, young Dalrus, but I believe we have more pressing affairs to deal with right now." She pointed towards the opposite entrance on the other side of that cave. Turning back around, the two brothers saw that there was a new wave of undead soldiers emerging, along with no less than two more metal golems.

"Regroup! Fall back and regroup!" Wyrmbane was shouting. The warriors who had scattered along the battlefield to deal with the first attack wave retreated back to their side of the cave where the main force of the Human Expedition was holding their ground. The paladin looked down at Dalrus from atop his steed and nodded in appreciation. "Your arrival could not be more fortuitous, lad. I don't know how you stopped that thing, but do you believe you could do it again?"

With an arrogant smirk on his face, Dalrus locked his fingers and outstretched them before his body until they all cracked loudly. "My lord, I'm feeling generous today, so I think I'll do it twice more, just for you." He declared, then proceeded to whip out his swords again. "With that said, if you folks could distract them while I sneak up behind them, that would be dandy. The weak point is that empty space under their helmets. I managed to land a critical hit because that thing was looking down, so the back side of the helmet was lifted and exposed."

Wyrmbane nodded. "Understood. We shall draw their attention away from our backline and keep those armors far from our spellcasters. Captain, I want you to form three squads. Two to keep those armors occupied, and one more to engage the undead. I shall personally lead one of the squads against the enchanted armors. To arms, men! Victory is near!" The warriors let out a warring cheer, then proceeded to reorganize themselves under Wyrmbane's and the captain's commands. Felrus once more turned to face his brother, as if expecting him to vanish the moment he wasn't looking again. "Where have you been?"

"Ah, you know me. An exciting tale involving battles against orc warlords, terrifying demons and bathing elven ladies. You know, my average type of adventure." Dalrus nonchallantly said, looking extremely proud of himself. "I'll give you the details of my heroic exploits later, brother. For now, we got some helmets to split."

WIth a nod, Felrus walked over to where his sword was laying down and picked it up again. "Indeed. Come, brother. Let us fight... Together."

And with that, Dalrus and Felrus proceeded to join the first group engaging one of the metal golems. It was in the center of the cavern, while the main battle group formed a defensive line closer to the other end of the cave to hold back the skeletal warriors, while the second group lead by Wyrmbane slowly pulling their enemy towards the side of the cave, close to where the river of fire was and away from the main group.

These metal golems didn't seem much smarter than the previous one; both were still relying on their overwhelming strength and resistance to smash and stomp over the battlefield, relying on nothing bute pure brute strength to take down it's foes. So far, the warriors were managing to avoid direct blows, but each time the metal golem's limbs hit the ground, the resulting impact would create small tremors and shockwaves capable of sending everyone down on their backs.

"OK Fel, here's the game plan." Dalrus shouted while they ran towards the first group, which was currently attempting to surround the golem closer to the middle of the cave, between the main group fighting the undead ahead and the rest of the Human Expedition behind them. "Try to keep it's focus on the ground. I'm gonna come from above the moment the weak spot is revealed."

"Got it." Felrus answered, not even questioning how his brother would manage to approach that massive thing from above. The metal golem was now raising it's right leg high up, then performed a heavy stomp against two of the soldiers surrounding it. They managed to dive out of the way, but the impact from that enormous metal boot hitting the ground was enough to create a crater on the ground.

Holding his sword up with both arms, Felrus let out a ferocious warcry and leapt against the metal golem's leg, the edge of his massive weapon coming down against the knee joint as he fell. There was a loud 'clang' from metal hitting metal, and Felrus' weapon bounced off the golem's thick plating, with a large dent being left behind. Despite how old it was, this magical creature was quite sturdy, if even a two handed broad sword couldn't penetrate it's armor.

Then, then golem let out an echoing metalic noise that almost sounded like a growl, resonating inside of it's hollow body with frightening effect. It retrated it's right hand until it was at level with it's head, it's fingers curling into a fist, then brought it down where Felrus was. Knowing that creature's attacks were as strong as a battering ram, the warrior was quick to jump away, then braced himself by sinking his sword tip against the ground when the impact of the golem's punch made his hair and beard flow above his face, the resulting air pressure almost pushing him away. Letting out a savage grunt, Felrus pulled his sword out of the ground and slammed the blade against the golem's wrist, but once more, all he managed to do was create another dent in it's armor with little effect. He could almost see chips flying off from his blade, and it would most likely require some intense sharpening later. _'Yeah, that's it... Keep your attention on me, big guy.'_ Felrus thought, watching the metal golem slowly raise it's arm again, yet another metalic growl echoing from within the armor.

Then, Felrus realized, his brother was nowhere to be seen. By that point, the other soldiers who had been thrown off their feet by the golem's previous attacks were recovering, many of them readying their weapons and surrounding the metal golem once more. The creature, however, had it's gaze fixated on Felrus - or at least, that T-shaped hole in it's helmet was facing his general direction. The metal golem had raised it's left arm far up above it's head, this time appearing as if were intending on slamming it against the ground like a hammer instead of punching him. So high it's arm went, that Felrus saw the joints in the armor's left arm raise to the point that a gap in the armpit was revealed.

There was some slight movement from the corner of his eye. Instinctively, Felrus turned his head to get a better look at what it was, but it was so fast all he could see was a black blur springing from an unknown location towards the metal golem's exposed flank. There was a strange sloshing noise from above, and a second later, the golem's arm fell off from it's joint and crashed against the ground besides it, which lifted a cloud of dust that mad Felrus stagger and cover his eyes.

It all happened so fast, even the metal golem itself didn't seem to realize what had happened, and it's entire body twisted to add momentum to it's blow as it attempted to crush the soldiers of the Human Expedition with an arm that was no longer there. Then it looked down to peer at the gaping black hole in it's left side, where, in a regular armorm it would be designed to insert one's arm through.

Felrus was the first one to recover from that staggering happening. Holding his sword above his shoulder with both his hands, he twisted his body as if he were holding a bat, then slammed his sword with all his might against the metal golem's kneecap. The resulting noise was like hammering a gigantic bell, but to Felrus' satisfaction, the kneeguard in the golem's enormous boot was bent to the point where the creature lost it's balance and fell over the other knee.

The metal golem was now bending over, the one arm it still had attached reaching out to grab the one that had just been cut off. The moment it's hand touched the arm, a large pillar of ice suddenly rose from the ground and encased it's entire gauntlet, trapping it against the ground. The golem let out another metalic growl, this one sounding surprisingly angry for a creature that didn't even have a mouth.

"That will not hold it for long!" Lady Jaina was shouting from behind them. "Attack now!"

It was that moment that Dalrus appeared over the golem's back, right above it's neck, swords lifted to deliver the final blow, his eyes gleaming with triumph. Then, he stopped, his victorious expression switching to utter confusion. "This one's got a short neck, or something! The helmet is still covering everything!"

Felrus, however, would not waste this opportunity. "Then batter it down! Go for the joints! Dismember this blasted creature!" Howling like a beast, Felrus attacked the golem's knee once again, aiming for the same spot so the dent he produced earlier would dig even deeper. After a brief moment of hesitation, the other warriors joined in, swords and spears repeatedly attacking the golem's knees and wrists.

Their attacks were producing results. The creature's joints were covered in bruises and began to cave in from the many blows... But suddenly, the creature let out it's loudest metalic howl yet, this one so loud that the warriors were forced to stop and cover their ears. The ice pillar binding the metal golem's arm to the ground then cracked all over and shattered in a thousand pieces, ice shards raining all over it's attackers.

Free, the metal golem stood up straight, it's lost arm held in it's one good hand. It pushed the arm against the hollow pit on it's left side, and suddenly it could move again. Sensing the danger, Dalrus jumped off the metal golem's neck and landed close to his brother. "Well, that didn't work." The rogue declared. "OK, time for plan B!"

Felrus looked down at him inquisitively. "There's a plan B?"

It was amazing how his little brother's could still sport that grin even in the middle of a battle like that."Big brother, you insult me! Did you really think that I, Dalrus Plaguefang, would jump in the midst of a life-threatening battle such as this without a carefully plotted strategy and three backup ideas to follow?"

This made Felrus lift his brows in genuine surprise. "And... Do you?"

Dalrus' smile froze on his face for a moment. "O-of course I do! I mean... The bigger they are, the harder they fall, isn't that right?"

Felrus' retort was cut short when the golem attacked them once again, it's enormous foot kicking up a chunk off the ground, the debris flying in many directions and raining all over it's attackers. Coughing, Felrus ducked under the attack, then ran off to the side along with his brother to evade a second cascade of stone debris. "So what? Are you saying to make it fall over?"

There was no response from his brother as they ran, and when Felrus took another look at him, he noticed his eyes were darting all over the place as if he were looking for something. "Y-yes, that is exactly what we are going to do! I mean, isn't it obvious? We make it... Fall..." Dalrus' eyes stopped upon the sea of fire against the far side of the cave, where the second group lead by Wyrmbane was busy with the other metal golem. "Felrus, I got an idea."

"I thought you already had three?"

"Of course I did! Now help me lead this thing towards the other group! I gotta have a quick word with Lady Jaina! Counting on you, Fel!"

"Wait, what are you-" But Felrus was unable to finish his sentence as his brother ran towards the metal golem closest to them. The creature once more tried to kick the rogue, who dodged to the side, then kept running to that side, towards the Human Expedition's main group where Lady Jaina was providing support to the main group battling the undead along with all the other spellcasters.

He wasn't sure what his brother was plotting, but he said he had a plan. With that in mind, Felrus turned around to face the other soldiers responsible for bringing down the gigantic suit of living armor. "OK, new plan! Bring this thing over to lord Wyrmbane's group, on the double! Keep it's attention on us!" Then, he began to shout at the top of his lungs and wave his sword around over his head as if it were a flag while also running towards the scorching flames that filled that cave with light.

The soldiers were visibly confused by this tactic, but the captain was currently on the frontlines with the main group engaged with the skeleton warriors, so everyone ended up following Felrus' lead. They all started to run towards Wyrmbane's group while also being as noisy and flashy as they could to keep the golem's focus on them.

The plan worked. The metal golem turned it's huge body around and began to run after the soldiers, each step making the gound tremble under it.

It was a good thing they had damaged that thing's joints so much earlier, otherwise that humongous suit of armor would catch up with them in two steps. As it were, it was constantly staggering, especially thanks to the knee Felrus had damaged earlier. That didn't make it any less deadly, however. It attempted to swing it's massive hands down against stragglers, and the impacts from its blows were just as strong as before.

By then, Lord Wyrmbane noticed the group approaching them. "What in Light's name...?" He said, surprised.

Felrus himself had no idea what to do next, but he had to let the commander know what was going on. "It's all part of the plan, sir! Move!" Pretty soon, they would be close enough to the first group that the soldiers would crash against each other if they didn't slow down. "Dal... Come on..." He whispered under his breath, then skidded to a halt.

The metal golem that up to that point had been busy trying to kill Wyrmbane's men had noticed the comotion. The river of fire was just a few meters from it's back, with it's attackers surrounding it in a half moon. That dark, eyeless helmet turned over to behold Felrus' group being chased by it's damaged companion, then it began to stomp over towards them, making the soldiers in that direction scramble out of the way so they wouldn't be stepped on like ants.

Now, the distraction groups found themselves trapped in between the two golems, one between them and the scorching flames of that unnatural, flaming river, the other approaching from behind and about to reach them. It would take less than five steps for it to catch up with the two groups. _'Light help me, what now?'_ Felrus thought, a cold tinge of fear gripping at his heart.

"NOW!" Dalrus' voice shot through the air.

The ground behind Felrus was abruptly covered in a thick layer of frost. The metal golem chasing them stepped over it, and the ice was almost immediately crushed under it's weight. The moment it did, however, the ice continued to grow upwards until it had encased the golem's entire boot. "Now, go for his legs! Break it down!" Once more Dalrus voice was heard from an unknown location.

Realizing his brother's plan, Felrus immediately ran forward to confront the metal golem whose foot was frozen solid. The creature had stopped completely, the tip of it's other foot also being frozen just as it was being raised for another step, and it attempted to free itself by pulling on it's leg. Felrus took this oportunity to attack the frozen leg before him, and he saw a thick crack spread all over the metal golem's boot.

Just as the other soldiers began to sorruind it to join the attack, however, the metal golem swinged it's arm against them it in a wide, low sweep. Felrus managed to duck under it by skidding over the ice floor between the creature's legs. His body slammed against the golem's other foot, but somehow he managed to keep himself steady as he looked up.

Dalrus had, once again, climbed over that golem's back, and now stood behind the creature's neck with his weapons at ready with an underhand grip. "Dal, can you hit the weakspot now?" Felrus shouted as he tried to get himself up on the slippery floor. "No!" His brother responded. "But I have a better idea!" Ahead of them, the other metal golem was one step away from it's trapped companion, it's hulking body casting a shadow over the two brothers as it managed to cover the blazing inferno behind it. "More ice!" Dalrus shouted from his vantage point, then brought both of his weapons down against the T-shaped hole in the golem's helmet, sinking them all the way down to their hilts.

The creature cried out a deafening noise that sounded like the oldest and rustiest metal door in the world being slowly opened. It brought both hands up to where Dalrus was, attempting to squash the rogue flat between its palms. Dalrus, however, was one step ahead of the golem. He had already released his weapons from the helmet, strapped them to his belt and dived forward into the air, narrowly avoiding being completely flattened.

As Dalrus jumped, a thick path of ice began to form on the ground before the injured golem. The soldiers all ran away from the spreading frost, which advanced all the way towards the other metal golem, then it went even past that, moving up to the edge of the river of fire. Dalrus fell against that icy floor, his body curled up so he would slide straight ahead and between the other golem's legs, whose hollow helmet followed the rogue's advance until it was staring straight down.

The damaged golem was still producing that horrifying sound, and it had managed to free it's back foot and was moving it forward to take a step forward to chase the rogue who had injured it so. As it did, however, Felrus gripped his sword with both hands once again, holding it like a lumberjack about to chop down a tree. It was hard to get a good base over that floor covered in ice but, mustering all his strength, he slashed at the golem's frozen leg one final time. The knee joint was completely shattered, breaking from the creature's leg. Since the metal golem was in the middle of taking a step, it's other foot in the air and about to touch the ground, losing its foundation leg made the golem lose balance completely.

So huge the creature was, its fall appeared to occur in slow motion. All the soldiers had safely moved out of the way already, but the other golem was still standing there, slowly turning around to chase after Dalrus, who had managed to use his momentum to keep sliding over the ice until he stopped against the edge of the fire river. Because of that, it didn't even notice the situation of it's companion it fell on top of it. Both golems began to fall over Dalrus, who simply stood there, smiling at them until the last second.

"DALRUS!" Felrus shouted, reaching out with one hand for his brother while attempting to desperate run over to where he was. All he did, however, was also lose balance on the ice floor and fall on his face, just as the metal golems toppled over the edge of the cave and fell in the river of fire under them. "DALRUS!" Felrus screamed again, trying to raise his head and crawl over where he had last seen his brother.

"What?" Came a voice from his side. Felrus turned his head so fast his neck cracked, and there was his brother, squatting down besides him on the portion of the floor that wasn't covered in ice, his bright blue eyes staring into Felrus'.

"Wha...? You're... But I just saw..." Felrus' head quickly snapped back and forth over where the two hulking suits of armor were being consumed by the flames, their massive weight making them incapable of moving back towards the edge, and his own brother who was now right next to him. "How did you...?"

"Secrets of the trade, my muscleheaded elder brother!" Dalrus proudly declared as he stood up and stretched both arms above his head. "One thing you should know about me, I'm pretty damn hard to kill. Now, I know you must be comfortable chilling on the ground like that, but we got more stuff to do." Then he offered his hand to Felrus like he had done earlier.

"Plaguefang!" As Felrus was holding his brother's hand and raising from the ground, Lord Wyrmbane approached them, having climbed down from his horse. "Good heavens, boy, next time give us a warning! But excellent work on defeating both those things at once."

Felrus cleared his throat and stood up straight, giving the paladin a salute. "Sir! It was actually my younger brother's plan. I was merely following his lead."

"Indeed?" From under his helmet, Halford Wyrmbane's eyes shifted from Felrus to Dalrus, who had the widest, proudest grin on his face as he attempted to casually look at a different direction. "A cunning ploy, young one. You made true on your promise, after all."

"Ah, well, you know..." Dalrus lifted his hand and admired his own fingertips, despite the fact he was wearing gloves. "All in a day's work, sir. Just doing my job. Of course, if you really want to show your praise, I could always use a brand new..."

Before Dalrus could finish his sentence, however, Jaina's voice came from behind them. "Commander! The frontline needs assistance! They are being pushed back!" They all turned to face the young mage who was running towards the group. "Quickly, we must join them!"

"Right away, my lady!" Wyrmbane raised his fist above his head and screamed to be heard by all nearby soldiers. "The armored abominations are no more! Do not relent! Victory draws near! For the Light!" The soldiers all cheered for their commander, then marched towards the other end of the cave where those skeletal warriors and archers kept pouring through, held back by a firm line of defense set up by their captain and his soldiers.

Dalrus began to slap the dust off his clothes. "Welp, guess one job's done. On to the next one, eh?" He then turned to face Jaina and took a deep bow before her, one arm waving over his side while the other bent under his chest. "Ah, and thank you for your help, my lady. Thanks to you, my plan went off without a hitch. As expected from one as cool-headed as you, eh?"

For some reason, Felrus felt the urge to slap his brother, but he managed to hold it back with a shake of his head. "My lady, if you will excuse us, we too shall join the battle." He spoke in a heavy voice, walking up to Dalrus and pulling his brother away from the back of his jacket, who said: "Hey! Come on, Fel! Stay frosty, will you?".

Jaina Proudmoore simply chuckled. "That was a very creative usage of my magic, young Dalrus. But your brother is right, the battle is not over yet." She watched as Felrus draggeed his younger brother across the ice floor before allowing him to stand up on his own.

Still slapping dust from his jacket, it took Dalrus a few seconds before he noticed Felrus was scowling at him. "What? Come on, it was funny!"

"That's not it, you bloody moron." Felrus practically snarled as he hanged his sword over his back. "You keep putting yourself in danger like that. I thought you were gone again back there!"

With a dismissive wave, Dalrus said: "Bah, you worry too much. But, if you're going to get all grumpy over it, then from now on you take the lead, alright? And I'll be watching your back, and jump in when you need help. After all, I'm supposed to be your shadow, isn't that right? The Plague, and the Fang, together."

Despite himself, Felrus found himself sighing, then smiling. "Yes... Together. As it always should have been, my little foolish brother." His eyes then lifted to where Wyrmbane and his men were joining the captain's forces to fight back the undead assault. "Shall we go put the dead to rest, then?"

His little brother chuckled, then he saw Dalrus grab his swords again. "After you, my overly thoughtful elder brother. They will never see me coming."

Then, together, the two plaguefang brothers proceeded to join the main battle against the dozens of skeleton soldiers and archers barring their way towards their awaited destiny deep within the caves of Stonetalon mountains.


	34. Chapter 34 - Destiny awaits

**Chapter 34 - Destiny awaits**

Felrus broke into a run, his broadsword held against his body with both his hands. His brother was following him close behind, although, strangely, he couldn't hear Dalrus' footsteps at all, and whenever he shifted his eyes even a little to the other side, his brother would vanish from his field of view completely. _'How does he do that?'_

As they ran, the two approached the area where the main force of the Human Expedition was battling the skeletons.

Things were looking tight. The heavily armored soldiers had formed a wall, standing side by side with their shields next to each other while their companions attacked the approaching skeletons from above and the sides. Arrows were constantly raining over them as the skeletal archers shot bolt after bolt from the back, impeding anyone from advancing too far. "We must do something about those archers in the back, sir!" The captain was speaking with commander Wyrmbane. "We can't advance so long as they keep providing cover fire!"

"I shall advance and draw their focus. Use that opportunity to break through their flank and attack the rear." The paladin had answered, then raised his hand above his head, his fingers curled as if he were squeezing something between them. His body began to emanate a warm golden glow, and a pair of wings of pure luminous energy rose from his back. With a mighty warcry, he leapt high in the air and came crashing down in the middle of the skeleton's ranks, where he was immediately surrounded. His body, however, was completely encased in a shining sphere of golden light, making all attacks bounce harmlessly off of him.

"Now! Forward! Crush these hellspawns!" Rallied by the captain's orders, the soldiers advanced through the opposite side where Wyrmbane was single-handedly fending off ten of those undead warriors.

Felrus followed the captain over their right flank, then, side by side with his fellow soldiers, he engaged the skeletons. Those shambling remains were little more than ancient, yellow bones clad in rusty armor that was missing several pieces and sported several dents and cracks. That did not make them less deadly, however. As he had learned during his travels with Prince Arthas, and when he aided with the defense of Gilneas against the scourge, the undead were little more than mindless dolls urged by a single, base instinct; kill all that moves. They had no sense of self preservation, nor did they feel pain. You could cut down a ghoul, and it would still try to bite and claw at your feet with it's remaining limbs.

The biggest mistake most people did when fighting the undead, however, was trying to fight them as they would a living creature. Warily, trying to defend their vitals while attempting to injure their foe. Felrus, however, had long since figured out the correct way to fight the undead. Simply, you needed to take the initiative, and make sure all your attacks are killing blows. A mindless undead creature would never attempt to defend itself, it would simply keep going forward until it was no longer able to.

And so, when the first group of skeletal warriors began to approach Felrus' attack group, the warrior was the first to step forward and swing his broadsword in a wide arc before him. The blade crushed the creature's neck bones with a single blow, and it's body crumbled to the ground. Not relenting, Dalrus performed another swing, and cut off a second skeleton's entire mid section off it's torso before he stepped forward and crushed it's skull under his boot.

Lord Wyrmbane was still drawing the archer's attention, but the rest of the melee troups was shifting their attention to the attack group attempting to approach their backline. Not because it was an effective military tactic, but simply, for a mindless undead, their target was whoever was closest. They began to meet more resistance, and before long, the attack group began to scatter amidst the undead ranks.

"Their lines break! Push forward! Give the archers no room for aim!" Wyrmbane shouted from his side. More soldiers started to advance from the edges of their defensive line, their numbers now matching that of their undead foes. Felrus himself focused only on taking down any foe within his reach, his great sword swinging left and right again and again. His reach allowed him to safely bring down most foes, but eventually, one managed to slip through his offensive defense.

He saw the skeleton warrior attack from his side just as he was driving his blade through another one. The monstrosity lifted a wide, curved sword and took a swing at Felrus' exposed side, when suddenly Dalrus booted foot crashed against the skeleton's ribcage, bringing the creature down. There for but a moment before he once more vanished from Felrus' sight. With a ferocious grunt, Felrus slammed his blade against the skeleton's head and ended it's unlife.

"There's no end to these buggers!" He heard Dalrus' voice from behind him. Looking over his back, Felrus saw his brother standing back to back with him, his knees bent low with his swords lifted over either side of his bode.

"Don't let up, brother! Their numbers are not endless! We must push forward and take out their archers!" Felrus said, using his sword like a bat to slam a skeleton away from him.

Dalrus looked back up at him, then grinned. "OK, Fel. You keep going then. Keep swinging that lump of iron, and I'll make sure nothing else comes close to you. Your shadow will be right behind you, bro!"

Felrus spared a moment to look down at his younger brother's eyes. These were no longer the eyes of that spoiled, arrogant noble boy he had left behind in Gilneas. Felrus recognized those eyes all to well. The eyes of someone who had seen the horrors of war. Who had spilled their blood, and the blood of others. It filled him with sorrow that his little brother was no longer that carefree child he so fondly remembered... But it also filled him with great pride to realize Dalrus had finally become what he had always been destined to be.

Ever since that day when his life had been saved by his brother, Felrus had known. Every time that burn scar on his face throbbed or itched, he was reminded of it. He, Felrus, and his brother, Dalrus, were a team, bound by fate, and their blood. They were the Plague, and the Fang. Together... There was nothing that could stop them. Not even this horde of undead abominations.

These thoughts and feelings rushed into Felrus' mind all at once during a brief instant, and he found himself smiling down at his brother. "I trust you with my life, Dalrus."

There was a brief moment of silent appreciation and understanding between the two brothers, with Dalrus going as far as to stand up straight, turn to face Felrus, squint his eyes and say: "Wait, are those actual fangs in your mouth?"

"Duck!" Felrus shouted, swinging his sword above Dalrus' head. His brother immediately squatted down, and Felrus cleaved yet another skeleton warrior in half. "I'm going, Dal! Ready?"

With a grunt, his brother looked over his back, then back up at Felrus and nodded. "Yeah. Go, Felrus! I'll cover you!" And with one final smile up towards his brother, Dalrus shot him a little wink... And then he disappeared. One second, he was there... The next, he was gone. Completely.

Felrus took in a deep breath, then turned around until he was facing the direction where the skeletal archers were still shooting at Lord Wyrmbane. His divine shield was holding for now, but the light was already less bright, his golden energy bubble growing dimmer by the second. There was no time to waste.

"For Gilneas!" Felrus screamed, slamming his shoulder against the skeleton warrior directly in front of him and beginning to advance through their ranks.

He kept swinging his sword in again and again before him as if he were cleaving through a field of wheat. Enemy after enemy was crushed by the weight of his wepon, carved in half by it's edge or pushed aside by his powerful swings. This reckless advance, however, didn't take long to backfire on him. As he advanced deeper into the enemy lines, the first skeleton apprached him from behind.

All he heard was a silent 'whoosh' from his side, and he caught a glimpse of a black blur with the corner of his eye. When he turned around, the skeleton had both it's arms cut off. Felrus dispatched it, then turned around once more. This momentary distraction, however, almost proved fatal, as another skeleton warrior had approached from the front, too close for him to effectively use his weapon.

Then, ther was that quiet 'whoosh' sound again... And this time, he saw Dalrus materializing from somewhere above the skeleton to bring down both his swords against the creature's back. It's spine was shattered, and the monstrosity crumbled to pieces before Felrus. The instant Dalrus' feet touched the ground, he immediately vanished once more.

 _'My shadow, huh...'_ With renewed vigor, Felrus pushed forward. His great sword stabbed, slashed and slammed, and over a dozen enemies fell before him as he steadily advanced. Again and again, whenever a foe slipped past his defenses or approached him from an exposed side... Most of the time, he realized, he didn't even noticed Dalrus was intervening. His brother was so fast, so silent and so deadly, he'd jump out of the shadows to strike at Felrus' enemy from their blind spot before disappearing again.

The rogue was simply all over the place. From above, below or the sides, he covered all the cracks in Felrus' defense as the warrior advanced like a juggernaut through the endless files of the undead troops until, at last, he reached the end of the cave where the tunnel leading deeper into the mountain was, and where the skeletal warriors were still drawing their bows and shooting their arrows against the Human Expedition's forces.

"This is it, Dal! Crush them to the last!" Felrus immediately rushed the closest skeletal archer. His sword came up against the creature's torso, hitting it with such force it's body practically explodede, broken bone shards flying everywhere. Unrelenting, Felrus continued straight forward to attack the second one, his sword coming down against the creature's skull and smashing it to bits as if he were using a hammer.

By now, however, the rest of the skeletons were all shifting their focus to the rampaging warrior who had managed to carve his way through their forces and had already brought down two of their ranged units. Felrus saw the rest of the archers turn their bows at him and draw their arrows.

 _'Oh, bugger... I should have picked up another shield.'_ Felrus thought as he threw himself at the ground and barrel rolled away. With nowhere else to go, he began to run into the tunnel the skeletons had come from while zig-zagging and jumping to the side to avoid the hail of arrows being shot at him. He could hear the other skeleton warriors giving chase, the sounds of their bare bone feet or rotting pieces of crumbling armor echoing loudly around them.

Directly ahead, there was a curve in the tunnel. Felrus made a mad dash straight forward, keeping his head low and covered to protect himself from the arrows. He felt a couple of them hitting his back, but fortunately, his heavy plate armor managed to resist the blows. Felrus threw himself at that curve, then rolled so he'd be able to get right back up, his great sword already in hand.

He didn't spare a single moment to catch his breath; with a borderline feral grunt, he brandished his weapon just as the first skeleton chasing him reached the corner he was hiding on. The skeleton soldier walked right into the blow, and it's entire right side was crushed, sending bone splinters everywhere. Immediately after hitting the first skeleton, Felrus lifted his sword with both hands and slashed down against the second one, who was cut almost cleanly in half by the massive weapon. The third one, however, walked over it's fallen comrades and tried to stab Felrus while his sword was still down from his second blow.

The warrior twisted himself to the side, letting go of his sword in the process. His hand curled into a fist, and with yet another grunt, he punched the skeleton's face so hard, his gauntlet crushed the creature's jaw, making it's head spin over it's neck. He then grabbed the skeleton by it's bony arms and pushed it against his fourth and final chaser, who was about to attack him from the side. Both creatures crashed down one over the other on the floor, trying to clamber up and resume their attack on him.

That was all Felrus needed to pick his sword back up, however. Holding it close to the ground, he let out a mighty warcry that echoed in the tunnels surrounding him as he swinged his sword with all his strength at the skeletons. He managed to flatten both creatures against the wall besides him at once, their ribcages giving way like dry pieces of wood.

Felrus looked around. Behind him, there was the tunnel leading to the depths of Stonetalon peaks. Ahead, the cave where the undead were still fighting the Human Expedition. The skeleton archers had apparently lost interest on him, because he could neither see nor hear their arrows chasing him. Warily, he advanced once more, eager to join the battle and take his enemies by surprise once he emerged.

However, the young warrior ended up being the surprised one.

As soon as he reached the mouth of the tunnel, he saw nothing but piles of broken bones and shattered bows where the archers once were. Now that they no longer needed to fear the ranged onslaught coming from above, the soldiers of the Human Expedition were advancing, cutting down the undead one after another.

Looking around himself once again, Felrus confirmed all there was surrounding the mouth of the tunnel were the unmoving remains of the archers... And his brother, who was leaning up against the wall next to the tunnel's entrance, a tibia bone being idly tossed up and caught by his left hand over and over. Without even looking at him, Dalrus said. "Yo. What took you so long?"

Felrus blinked a few times to fully register what was going on, then took a third look at the broken bones scattered all over the ground in little piles. "Did... You do all this while I was in there?"

Dalrus simply shrugged, then tossed his bone at a distant skeleton soldier advancing to fight the Expedition's soldiers. "Yeah, you were such a good distraction, I decided to take down the archers. I figured you'd be fine against a few of those walking bones. And big shock, I was right!" His brother smirked, then winked at him. "Come on, Fel. All that's left is cleaning up before we can move on. You coming?"

The warrior was speechless. First, those strange abilities that allowed his little brother to seemingly teleport, vanish from sight and attack from nowhere... Then all that skill and cunning that allowed him to not only take out foes far larger than they were, but also decimate the enemy's backline during that brief window of distraction. Felrus shook his head, a wide smile forming on his face, then slapped his brother on the shoulder. "Might as well. Let's take them from behind."

"That's how rogues do it!" His brother happily said, swords already in each hand. "Go on then, after you!"

The rest of the battle was fast and clean. The Plaguefang brothers attacked the remaining skeletons from behind while the rest of the Expedition's forces pushed forward from the front. Caught by both sides, chaos spread among the undead ranks, and they were quickly dispatched. At last, the final pile of bones crumbled and moved no more. The soldiers all cheered victory, and gathered at the mouth of the tunel for a brief head count, as well as to tend their wounded before advancing.

Now that they finally had some time for it, Felrus approached his brother, but he was already busy being interrogated by Lady Jaina and Commander Wyrmbane.

"...Must once again thank you, young Lord Plaguefang." The paladin was saying. "Had it not been for your arrival and your ingenious plan, I fear our losses would have been far more severe. And to sneak behind the enemy lines and decimate their archery... Truly, your skills in stealth are commendable."

"Come now, Commander, you're gonna make me blush like this." The rogue readily said, although the proud grin on his face suggested quite otherwise. "But nothing would have worked without everyone's cooperation. I should be thanking Lady Jaina for accepting my plan so fast and making the ice traps when I gave her the signal."

To that, the sorceress smiled and nodded. "I must admit it never occurred to me to use my magic in such a way."

"But the real MVP of the day is..." And then his brother's gaze met his, and Dalrus beckoned him over. "My brother here, of course. You should have seen him, tearing through those bags of bones like charging bull. I just took advantage of the commotion to take out the archers when they were looking the other way."

"Ah, yes." And then Wyrbane turned around to face Felrus himself. "Indeed, I too took notice of your bravery today, Plaguefang. I believe a formal commendation is in order for your feats in battle."

"My lord..." Felrus was taken by surprise by this, and almost raised his hands apologetically before he managed to stop himself. "That is not necessary. We all did our best and risked our lives for what we believed in. For now, all I want is to reach the end of our journey."

Jaina nodded. "I'm afraid he is correct, Commander. I would also like to hear young Dalrus' tale as to how he found us, and where he's been all this time, but more pressing matters require our immediate action."

Everyone regarded her. Wyrbane spoke: "Is something amiss, my lady?"

The sorceress' face grew a bit more grim. "I suspect we are being followed, commander. The troops we left behind haven't reported back. I believe we should press onward with all due haste. I can feel that our destination does not lie too far ahead now."

"I understand." Wyrmbane said with a nod. "I shall inform our troops that we are to move ahead as soon as possible." And with that, the paladin turned around and moved to the center of the cave where everyone could hear his orders.

Jaina sighed, then gave the two Plaguefangs a nod. "Excuse me." Then she, too, moved away from them, headed towards where the other mages were gathered along with the healers and the injured.

Alone at last, Felrus regarded his younger brother. "It's only going to get harder from here on out, you know."

Dalrus simply shrugged, then looked up at him. "Yeah, well, it wouldn't be fun if it were too easy."

Felrus almost snorted, then shook his head. "Good Light, I missed you, Dal."

The rogue then patted him on his armored shoulder. "Good to see you again too, Fel. And, ah..." For once, Dalrus looked a little nervous, his gaze avoiding Felrus'. "Sorry I worried you so much. I really wish I could have contacted you and everyone else in some way, but..."

"Later." Felrus cut him off, his palm raised to signal his brother to stop. "You'll tell me everything then. For now, we have to..."

His next words were cut off when a high pitched scream came from their side, and suddenly there was a tiny figure pressed against Dalrus' leg. Looking down, Felrus recognized the shape of Sticks Hardbones' head above that tiny gnome body, the little man sobbing uncontrollably while his short stubby arms hugged his brother's leg with all his might. "Oh, praise be! My savior lives! Thank the heavens and the ground and all in between!"

"Woah, hey!" Dalrus gasped, his arms flailing about for balance as he instinctively rose and shook his leg. The gnome, however, had a powerful grip on him, and wasn't loosened so easily. "Easy now, buddy! Who are you, and get off my leg!"

"Oh, forgive me, but I cannot, I am just so happy to know you didn't die because of me!" The gnome cried out, his face buried against Dalrus' knee as he was veehemently shaken up and down. "Do you not remember me, sir? It's me, Sticks Hardbones! You saved my life from that dreadful Hellscream!"

Felrus saw his brother freeze, and the light of recognition fill his face. "Ooooooooh yeah... I remember. You made it out OK, then! Boy, that's a relief." Dalrus laughed, then set his leg down to pat the gnome's huge bald head a couple times. "I thought you got crushed back then! So you were alive too, eh? Now I don't feel so bad for almost killing myself. Because let me tell you, if I had gone through all that just to find out the one I was trying to save had died anyway... That would really spoil my day."

"And it's all thanks to you! Thank you, thank you so much for your bravery!" The gnome sniffed, then looked up at Dalrus with his huge wet eyes. "If there ever is anything I can do to repay you, sir, please don't hesitate to ask! I promise I shall never forget this debt for so long as I live!"

"OK, how about, first of all, you get off my leg?" Dalrus said, lauching a desperate look at Felrus who had to cover his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

"Ah, yes, quite! Forgive me!" With a little clearing of his throat, the gnome let go of Dalrus and stepped back. "Allow me to introduce myself once more! Sticks Hardbones, at your service, sir Plaguefang! I may not be very strong or fast or... Courageous, but! I am a passionate engineer! If you ever need my help with anything mechanical or electrical, I shall do everything in my power to aid my hero!"

"T-thanks, buddy, that's, ah... Real nice of you!" His brother was looking so lost and out of place that moment... And Sticks, with his incredibly innocent display of affection and loyalty for his savior, really made Felrus bite on his own lip to not laugh at the whole awkwardness of the situation. Thankfully for them, it was that moment that Wyrmbane's voice boomed over them: "Our break is over! March forward, warriors! Our destiny is not far now! Form ranks, and move out!"

Visibly relieved, Dalrus immediately moved behind Felrus and said: "Welp, you heard the big man! I still got a few things to discuss with my brother, you know what it's like. See you later, Sticks! Good to see you again!"

Nodding so fast his entire body shook, the gnome replied: "Yes, oh yes indeed! Very good, mister Plaguefang! I eagerly await to see you again!"

"Right, right!" The discomfort in his Dalrus' voice was palpable then. "Take care! Be seeing ya!"

Still nodding and practically trembling with joy, the gnome turned around and moved back to his spot in the ranks, right on top of his mechanized bird thing. Felrus then looked down at his brother, his cheeks burning with the strain of not laughing. "Well, looks like you got a fan!"

"Oh, sod off." Dalrus replied with a rude gesture. "Eyes up front, soldier. We are marching."

And march they did. The group entered the tunnel ahead of them, followed along the curve and went deeper into the mountain. On their way, they came across many perils; jets of fire spewing from holes in the ground, more rivers of fire and ghastly undead creatures guarding the path ahead, not to mention the native living beasts; gigantic spiders, kobolds, necromancers who came from Light knows where, quillboars - the savage pigmen they had encountered in Kalimdor's wastes - and even stray harpies. Each beast fought to the death with unnatural savagery, but there were no more battles on the scale of the one Dalrus had saved them from. Thanks to his rogue skills, he was able to scout ahead unseen and warn them of the dangers awaiting on their path. More often than not, it was the members of the Expedition who ambushed the dark denizens of those caves.

The creatures were not the only danger, however. More than once, they almost fell prey to deadly traps; pitfalls with blood-soaked spikes at the bottom, fake bridges over lakes of fire ready to collapse the moment they came close, and even enormous stalagmites falling from above and nearly crushing or impaling people below.

It was an arduous journey, many were injured, some even died. But still, they kept pressing forward. None of them lost their will to fight this time. They were so close now, even people like Felrus, who had absolutely no understanding over magic, could feel it.

It was almost like a heartbeat, resonating all around him in waves. That... Strange, mystical sensation enveloped his body and urged him to press forward, as if whispering to him: _"Keep going... You are almost there..."_

At long last, they reached yet another corrider. At the end of this corridor, however, they could see a faint light at it's end... One nothing like the dark flames that filled that dreadful place. Everyone immediately knew.

 _"This is it."_ It had to be ahead of them. Just a little bit more... The warriors and the mages all marched on at double pace now, with Jaina Proudmoore herself taking point, heading straight to the mouth of the tunnel.

Finally... They emerged.

They came out of the side of a large room. Directly ahead of them was a bridge, leading to their left over the burning lakes of fire below. To their right, the sight was a little better. There were several fountains arranged over a tall stone altar, their pristine water pouring nonstop. It was from those waters that the warm, beautiful light that lured them was emanating. And on top of the altar, before and between the fountains, was a man.

The man wore a long brown robe, his shoulders pads adorned with dark feathers. A hood was covering his head, but from below, they could clearly see his old, wrinkled face, which sported a short grey beard over his chin and jawline. In his right hand, he was holding a wooden staff with the sculpture of a raven at it's tip. Felrus, as everyone else from the expedition, stopped when they saw the man. He then felt a slight brush over his shoulder, and looking to his side, he saw Jaina walking past him and advancing towards the man. He regarded the young mage, then nodded towards her.

"Welcome, Jaina Proudmoore. I have been expecting you." His voice somehow carried over the room, strangely, not in a loud, echoing way... But as if he ware just a few paces from them, speaking at a polite, low tone.

Jaina stopped, then lifted her head to regard the man. "All this time, it was your power that I felt... You are the one who lured us to this place. Who... No... What are you?"

The old man nodded at her. "All your answers will be answered shortly, young one. As soon as the rest of our guests arrive."

"What?" Everyone looked around, confused. And then, they saw it.

Coming from across the bridge, over the river of fire, were over a dozen armed orcs, lead by their Warchief, Thrall, and what had to be the biggest and oldest tauren Felrus had ever seen in his life.

Jaina immediately raised her hands, her eyes emanating a ghostly blue glow as her palms were enveloped in a similar light. "Orcs! I knew that we were being followed. Defend yourselves!" One by one, the soldiers and mages of the Human Expedition drew their weapons and rushed to form a defensive line over their side of the cave.

Suddenly, however, the old man slammed his staff against the ground, drawing everyone's attention towards him. "Stop! There will be no violence in this place."

Everyone froze in place, even Lady Jaina. Slowly, Thrall came forward with the tauren by his side, until they had crossed the bridge completely and stood before the old man and Jaina's forces. "That voice." The orc spoke. "You're no oracle! You're the prophet!"

 _'What prophet?'_ Felrus thought, confused. He looked down at his brother to see if he had any idea what was going on, but to his surprise, Dalrus had his jaw hanging open, his eyes fixed upon the old man as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The prophet smirked, then raised his back up straight, his wrinkled face peering down at everyone from his vantage point. "Very perceptive, son of Durotan. I am the prophet. And, now, that I've lured you all here, I will tell you what destiny holds."

Thrall, however, did not seem too patient. He stepped forward, then shouted: "What the hell is going on here?"

The prophet, however, did not look intimidated. He simply waved his gloved hand towards the Human Expedition forces and said: "Thrall, this is Jaina Proudmoore, leader of the survivors of Lordaeron."

"Survivors? " The orc's expression twisted in puzzlement. "What are you talking about?"

Raising his hand somehat dramatically, the prophet once again spoke out: "The invasion of the Burning Legion has begun! Lordaeron has already fallen, and now the demons come to invade Kalimdor! Only together, united against the shadow, will be able to save this world from the flame."

Felrus felt all air leave his lungs. He looked back and forth between the orc, the tauren, the prophet and his own companions, trying to digest all this information. _'Together? With the horde?'_ He thought, his thoughts going completely chaotic within his mind. Lady Jaina, however, managed to voice what everyone was thinking:

"Unite with them? Are you mad?" She shook her head. "The horde have been our enemies for years!" More people began to voice their distaste, shouting: "Death to the horde!" "Blast those greenskins!" "My family was killed by orcs!"

Once again, however, the prophet slammed his staff against the ground, bringing everyone silent as if by some kind of spell. "Have you heard nothing that I've said? The Legion comes to undo history and end all life!" He then turned to regard the orc Warchief. "Thrall, your friend Hellscream has already fallen under the demons' influence. Soon he and your whole race will be lost forever!"

All color seemed to vanish from the orc's face. He took a step back, as if trying to distance himself from those news. "No... I'll die before I let that happen!"

"Then you must rescue him immediately!" The prophet went on, his hand reaching out for Thrall as if beckoning the orc over to where the old man stood. "He is the key to the destiny I promise you. However, you will need help."

"Wait!" Jaina spoke out. "This is insane! You can't possibly expect me to-"

"Destiny is at hand, young sorceress." The prophet cut off her words. "The time to choose has come. For the fate of all who live, humanity must join forces with the Horde"

"This is madness..." Jaina whispered, one hand running over her face. "After all that we lost because of the horde, all the blood, do you think we can just ignore their will towards us like that?" She turned to face Thrall. "After all the innocent lives you have taken?"

"On my blood and honor I swear, human." Thrall suddenly spoke as he turned to face Jaina and took a step forward. "Never in my life have I taken the life of an innocent, nor have I ever given the order to do so. Since the day I took this hammer and title of Warchief, I have only done battle for the survival of my people. And this prophet speaks the truth. Right now, the enemy we face is greater than our old hatreds."

Jaina was visibly conflicted. "Then what about all the people killed by your-"

"Laaaaaaady Jaina, if I may interject here!" Every single person in the room turned to face who was talking. Even Felrus himself felt his jaw drop when he realized his little brother was stepping forward to stand before Jaina. "At this point in time, I do believe we should bring cold, hard logic into play, don't you agree?"

"What? Logic? What are you talking about?" Jaina said, visibly confused. Felrus looked up, and for his utter astonishment, he noticed that the prophet was smiling, as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world but only he understood it.

Instead of answering right away, Dalrus turned his back on her and waved to the Warchief. "Hey Thrall, long time no see. How's Watu?"

"What...? You... You are that human." As if things weren't mind-boggling enough, now his brother was friends with the Warchief of the horde? Felrus felt so shocked and confused he couldn't even speak, but only listen. "So you did find your way back to them... I was very surprised to learn you managed to slip Watu's grasp."

"Ah, well, everyone makes mistakes." The young rogue arrogantly said as he stuffed his chest out. "And that is the point here, isn't it? To ensure we won't make yet another that we are aaaaaall-" And here he made an exaggerated gesture with his arms towards everyone in the cave. "-going to deeply regret. Now, Lady Jaina." He then turned around to face the mage. "If you'll pardon my impudence, would you be so kind as to remind everyone why we are here, in this foreign land, an entire sea away from the comfort of our warm beds and families?"

"Because of the Undead and the Burning Legion destroyed our city." She automatically responded, apparently the woman being so stunned that her mind simply switched to auto pilot.

"Exactly! Now, mister Thrall." The boy then turned once more to regard the orc. "Since we were nice enough to share our reason for leaving our homes and coming to this unpleasant place, would you be willing to reciprocate our good will for the sake of diplomacy?"

Thrall regarded the youth with his deep blue eyes, then straightened his shoulders and crossed his arms. "I had a vision... A vision of chaos and destruction coming to this world. I knew that if my people stayed in the Eastern Kingdoms, it would be our end. The spirits... And that prophet told me our destinies lied here."

Dalrus clapped. "What a coincidence!" Once more he turned to regard the mage. "Lady Jaina, would I be correct to assume that gentlement up there had something to do with your decision to lead us not just into this dark, deadly old mountain, but also to this lovely continent in the first place?"

The woman seemed to finally snap from her stupor. "What? How did you...?" She coughed, then tried to regain her composure. "Yes... Before even the Undead had first emerged... That prophet had been trying to warn my master, and the King of Lordaeron about this tragedy... Even Ar-" She caught herself. "Even... Others."

"Well, then!" Dalrus clapped his hands once again, then slowly walked towards the center of the cave, just below the old prophet on the stone pedestal. "I do believe we can all aggree that, up to this point, that gentleman's cryptic words have done nothing but lead us towards a better path than brutal-death-by-demons-and-zombies, don't you think so?" He spread his arms and looked around expectantly as if expecting people to aggree with him. Everyone simply continued to stare at him in silence. Dalrus cleared his throat, then continued: "And also, I do believe it is worth pointing out that, unlike my fair and wise Warchief friend over here, the demons and the Scourge are not willing to negotiate. Those things do not want land, they do not want gold, they do not want resources. They want to kill each and every single one of us, indiscriminately, for the simple fact that we are neither demons nor walking corpses. Does anyone disagree with that?"

Again, no one spoke... Until, suddenly, the prophet said: "Like a wild, raging fire, the Burning Legion will consume all in their path. Even the Undead Scourge is nothing more than means to an end for them, a tool to be used and discarded once their usefulness is over."

"Exactly, thank you! So, mister Warchief Thrall." Dalrus extended an arm towards the orc. "Would you mind telling us, what do you intend to do if, for the sake of argument, we were to join forces in defeating the Burning Legion? What would your plans be, afterwards? Are you going to simply declare war on us for no good reason through mass genocide of harmless civilians who are just glad the demonic threat is over?"

The orc stomped his foot against the ground, then slammed his fist against his chest. "Never! Only a madman would seek unnecessary war and senseless bloodshed after our true enemy is defeated. All I desire is a place where my people can live peacefully."

Dalrus nodded. "Indeed, you'd have to be a horrible, selfish, insane and unfit leader to rekindle an old war without any provocation or need just after fighting alongside those people to defeat the Burning Legion! And what about you, Lady Jaina? Do you think that, at this point in time, it would be wise to turn down allies who have an enemy in common and start yet another war when we already have our hands full with demons and zombies?"

"I..." Jaina took in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, her head lowering in defeat for a brief moment before she lifted her face once more and nodded towards Dalrus, the prophet and, lastly,Thrall himself. "You're right. It would be folly to fight the Horde again right now... And if we could somehow destroy the Legion by working together..." She walked forward, stopping right before Thrall, who uncrossed his arms and regarded her with a neutral expression. "Then I believe it would be best to let our old enmities behind for a moment... And face this threat side by side."

Silence filled the cave. Felrus couldn't even breathe. Everyone waited the orc's response as his bright blue eyes regarded the young mage.

Then, he spoke:

"My entire life, I have always desired our conflict to end, once and for all. For the sake of our future, Jaina Proudmoore... I, Thrall, son of Durotar and Warchief of the Horde, accept to cease all conflicts between us, and fight side by side to destroy the Burning Legion."


	35. Chapter 35 - Forging alliances

**Chapter 35 - Forging alliances**

The next few days were like a dream for Felrus. Not because it was the most amazing thing to ever happen, but because it felt absolutely surreal to the young warrior, as if at any moment he'd wake up and realize there really was no way any of that was actually happening.

Together, both the Human Expedition forces and the Horde left the caves with the help of that strange prophet. When the dark denizens of those caverns attacked them again, humans and orcs, elves and trolls, dwarves and tauren, all fought side by side to repel their attackers. Not a single life was lost on their way out, and when they emerged from the caves, Thrall and Jaina made the formal announcement for the rest of their troops that they had agreed not only upon a cease-fire, but also on an alliance between them.

There was surprisingly little resistance. No in-fighting had risen from this. No loud voices of dissent. Perhaps, after being chased off in this harsh land for so long, everyone was simply relieved that strife would end. Or maybe, they were too exhausted to question the decisions of their leaders.

Or, perhaps, the gravity of the situation they were in had finally, truly dawned upon them.

Ever since arriving on Kalimdor, their first battle had been against the land itself; fighting against the harsh environment, seeking resources and repelling the hostile wild life. When the horde arrived, it rekindled an old hatred deep within them, and all their focus went to fighting against the orcs and their new allies. For a moment, everyone had forgotten what they were even fighting for. Why they had even come to Kalimdor in the first place.

But as Thrall and Jaina explained the situations to their troops, it finally dawned upon them that the demons were coming. They were already here, spreading death and corruption. A greater threat than either faction was to one another, for, both the Alliance and the Horde, one could say, had their own reasons to fight. Survival, revenge, to protect something that was precious to them... Like how Felrus himself fought for the safety of his homeland, as well as his family, he knew that the orcs, too, had something they desired to see safe. Even they were capable of loving something.

But not the demons. Not the undead. Those creatures were purely, inherently evil, down to their cold, twisted hearts. They didn't desire to simply live their lives peacefully; all they wanted, all they existed for, was to spread death and pain. They were true incarnations of malice that could never be reasoned with, because it was simply in their nature. It was like the prophet said... They were like a wild fire, consuming everything in their path.

This truth became apparent to them as the two armies marched through the wastelands of Kalimdor, northwards to Ashenvale forest. They had been told that the Warsong clan of orcs had laid down their camp on a ridge close to the edges of the forest. And the closer they came, the more... Different the land appeared.

It was still a harsh, arid desert, but... There was something else in it. At least before, the ground was soily and... Well, it had a natural look to it. But as they advanced, they began to see what could only be described as scorched earth. The ground itself appeared to be burned and cracked, completely devoid of all life. It was one thing to see a harshnatural environment; at least such a place was still part of this earth, where it's own fauna and flora could prosper. But this place, where the demons had clearly walked over... The very earth itself was dead and defiled. No living creature could possibly stay in such a place.

The closer they came to the place the prophet had told them the Warsong, corrupted and controlled by the demons, were, the more devastated the earth appeared to be. Dead, corrupted, salted to the point even the most resilient of plants couldn't hope to grow.

 _'This is what the Legion and their minions do.'_ Felrus thought to himself. _'They are not even terraforming this world for their own uses... They simply wish to see all things die. To end all life. How could anything be so vile?'_

During those days of marching, Felrus did his share to mantain good relations with their new allies. He did his best avoid conflict, and politely offered himself to help wherever he could be of use; to carry supply, to guard the caravans, and a couple of times he even attempted to converse with members of the horde - both which ended in failure as his only responses had been a harsh look and a gutural grunt. His brother, on the other hand, was surprisingly busy.

First off, Dalrus had laid down a full report, before both faction's leaders, about all he had been through since that fateful day when he was captured by the Warsong. How his life was spared thanks to Thrall, his conversation with the Warchief that same night, and his daring escape afterwards. How he had passed out in the wilds and remained hidden until he was recovered, before hiding among the orc caravans as Hellscream lead his troops north.

Then, with Thrall's permission, he explained how the Warsong began to chop down the forest to build outposts when suddenly they were attacked by the natives; the Night Elves. Dalrus explained how he attempted to save one of their people from being killed by the orcs, and his meeting with an ancient deity known as Cenarius. Next he told them about the corruption of the magical fountain by the demons, and, to Thrall's great sorrow, about the fall of the Warsong clan, who took the demon's blood and slaughtered the rest of the elves, along with their demigod protector. Lastly, Dalrus spoke about how the demon Mannoroth came forward to enslave the orcs once more, and, to everyone's surprise, his meeting with the prophet, who had transported the boy to the caves where he was finally reunited with the rest of his group.

When his tale was finally over, the sun had already set in the sky, but he was not excused from action. His brother had been dragged off to meet with the members of the Intelligence division, which was meant to merge with the Horde's own espionage group. He could only imagine Captain Lyafra's reaction to his deeds. Regardless, there was much to be done.

At last, both forces arrived at the edges of the beautiful green woods of Silverpine, with a wide ridge spreading before them. They could quite clearly see the scorched earth there, and on top of that... There was just _something_ in the air. A terrible, synister presence that did nothing to hide itself.

The Horde and the Human Expedition mounted a camp each on opposite sides. As they did, the leaders of the factions gathered to discuss their next plans. Felrus and his brother had both been summoned - Felrus to act as one of Lady Jaina's guards, and Dalrus as a diplomat of sorts, since for the longest time he appeared to be the bridge between the factions. Lady Jaina and Halford Wyrmbane were there, as were Thrall and the hulking old Tauren Chieftain, whom they had learned was named Cairne Bloodhoof. He was the one speaking now, while the guards stood at a safe, diplomatic distance behind their leaders: "If the prophet was correct, then the warsong encampment lies just over the ridge. We should ready ourselves for battle."

Thrall had a sad, distant look on his face as he peered over the ridge. "I know, Cairne. It's just that I never thought I'd live to see the day... when I had to fight my own people."

Jaina then stepped forward, a bright, round gem held in her hand and being offered to the orc Warchief. It was slightly bigger than her fist. "Just remember, Thrall, with this soul gem you can capture your friend Hellscream's spirit without hurting him. But you need to bring it back to my base immediately, so we can free Grom from the demons' control."

For a moment, it looked as if the orc was going to say something, but couldn't find the words. His face went to the gem, then to the young mage's face, and, with a nod, he took the goul gem from her hand. "I... appreciate your help, Miss Proudmoore. Yet another day I thought I'd never live to see."

And for the first time in a long while, the sorceress actually broke a smile. A weak, nervous, exhausted one... But a smile nonetheless. "That makes two of us. I'll return to my base and aid you as best I can. Good luck... gentlemen." And with that, she turned around, with Wyrmbane, Felrus and the rest of the guards silently following her while looking at the orc and the tauren over their shoulders.

Felrus knew they were regarding their potential enemy, gauging whatever threat he could pose, readying themselves for an unexpected attack. But when Felrus looked into the orc's eyes, all he could see there was anguish... Pain... Sorrow.

"How shall we proceed, my lady?" Wyrmbane was saying. "I can feel a synister presence over this ridge, but we shouldn't let our guard down near these orcs either. Who knows how long it will take before they turn on us?"

"Right now, we have no choice but to trust Thrall, commander." Lady Jaina replied, leading the group back to the center of their base. "I must make the preparations for when he returns to me with the soul gem. Thrall shall take care of the offensive, so for the time being we must focus solely on our defenses until the conflict is over."

Wyrmbane nodded. "As you wish. I shall fortify our northern side at once." And with that, the mage and the paladin went their separate ways, with Felrus going after the commander. He could see the orc warchief and the tauren chieftain discussing something before the Horde camp. It was still a strange experience for him, to be so close to the people who were once his enemies, now working together to help them. They could see the horde troops mobilizing, gathering their forces to launch their first attack.

"Hey Fel. What's the word?"

Felrus almost screamed when he felt that unexpected touch upon his shoulder and spun around violently, his hand immediately going for his sword and almost backslapping his brother across the face. The rogue, however, ducked under harm's way and grinned up at his older brother. "Bloody hell, Dalrus, I told you not to do that!" He snapped, his brows bent in anger as he felt his heart racing within his chest. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Just checking to see if you're alert at all times, brother!" Dalrus replied with a dismissive shrug. "Gotta stay sharp when we are so close to another battle, eh?"

"Right..." With a huff, Felrus let go of his sword and straightened himself. "So, I take it your report to captain Lyafra is over?"

He saw a peculiar expression run through his brother's face, who then glanced quickly over his shoulder before looked back up at Felrus. "Of course! As you can imagine, she was beside herself with joy to hear that I was still alive and well, and simply could not wait to hear my heroic exploits first-hand." There was a pause, and Dalrus sighed. "In... Explicit... Minucious detail. Multiple times."

"Naturally. I mean, from your report, you made contact with an entirely new type of people here. Not to mention all the spying on the Warsong, so I'd assume you have quite a lot of relevant information for this mission." Felrus looked around. Commander Wyrmbane was now assigning people to the proper stations over their defensive line. "And it looks like, this time, it's the real deal... We are really going to face the Legion's minions. You saw some of them before, like? What were they like?"

Once again, his brother sighed, but this time he rubbed his eyes in clear annoyance. "Well, Felrus, since this is the first time I have ever been asked this question, I shall now, exclusively to you, tell something I have never told anyone else even once since we left that mountain." Dalrus then lifted his face and recited in a monotous, robotic tone: "They were big, they were powerful, they were frightening, they were more powerful than I can put into words, they made the very air feel rough and coarse and hard to breathe. One had four legs, a flaming skull for a head and was called Mannoroth. The other had wings, horns and claws and was called a Dreadlord. Other than enslaving the orcs, they didn't say what their plans were."

Felrus furrowed his brows. "Can you take this more seriously? We are about to dive head-first into this fight, and the more we know the less likely we are to get killed."

Dalrus threw his arms in the air and shook his head. "I know that better than anyone else, but repeating the same things I've already told everyone a million times is really starting to bother me. This whole thing would be much easier if they'd just let me sneak into the enemy camp and help take out Grom myself."

"No way, that's just too reckless." Felrus immediately replied. "It's a miracle they didn't catch you last time, but now they have demons in their midst, and who knows what kind of profane magics they have up their sleeves. I also think we should help with the attack, but we all have our own roles to play in this battle. The Horde will handle the offensive, so all we have to do is hold out until they bring down Hellscream."

"OK, I get that, but isn't it just... I don't know..." Dalrus pushed his hands into his pockets and let out a long, deep exhale. "Boring?"

Felrus' jaw hung slightly open for a moment as he waited for his brother to deliver the punchline of this terribly tasted joke. When he realized the boy was actually serious, he placed one hand on his hip, the other jabbing an armored finger at Dalrus' chest. "Have you lost your bloody marbles? We didn't come here to have fun. This is war, Dalrus. People are putting their lives on the line. This isn't fun for anyone. Every 'boring' moment we have is a moment where we are not busy risking our lives in battle, so I give my deepest thanks for this 'boredom.' If you can't even understand something like that, you really have no place in a battlefield, much less the frontlines."

He saw his brother look down at the finger poking his chest through his leather jacket, then up Felrus' face while he spoke. There was surprise in his brother's eyes, but soon it was replaced by irritation. "Don't you talk to me like I'm a child, I've been through just as much as you have!" He snapped back, pushing Felrus' hand away. "I know damn well people are dead, and most likely a lot more are still going to die from here on out. What am I supposed to do until then? Waste my time with boring speeches and politics and roll my thumbs when I know there are more important things I could be doing to end this stupid conflict all the sooner?"

"You will follow your superior's orders, Dalrus." Felrus' eyes were squinting as he stared straight into his brother's eyes. "This time, I don't care what your moral compass tells you is the right thing. If you've been told to stay right here and do nothing, you better damn well do just that, or so help me, I'll chain you up myself. I won't let you wander off and vanish for weeks again!"

Dalrus had already taken a deep breath and opened his mouth to answer when he suddenly stop. He then closed his eyes, slowly exhaled through his nostrils and shook his head. "I came to this place with you because I wanted to make a difference. To keep our home safe and end this damn conflict as soon as possible. I thought I'd be able to count on you for that. But so far, all you've done is..." As he spoke, Dalrus opened his eyes again and stared back at Felrus. When he did, however, he suddenly stopped talking, and squinted his eyes right back. "Wait, what's wrong with your eyes? Are they... Vertical?"

This made Felrus actually closed his mouth and turn his face to the other side. "No, you're just seeing things."

His brother, however, deftly stepped to the side as well to keep looking at his face. "Fel? Are you hiding something from me?"

Thankfully, that moment, the commander's voice cut through their conversation. "Plaguefang! Go assume your position at the watch tower! And tell your brother that captain Lyafra has requested his immediate presence!"

"Welp, that's my cue! See you later, Fel!" Without even giving him time to reply, Dalrus sprinted off through the Human Expedition's base camp and almost instantly disappeared from sight. Felrus took in a deep breath and released a profound sigh, after which he recomposed himself and marched over where Wyrmbane was calling him. "Yes, sir! Right away!"

For the rest of that day, both camps were very busy with their preparations. The Horde's troops formed ranks and, lead by their Warchief himself, they began to march up towards the ridge to launch their first attack against the fel orcs on the other side. For the Human Expedition's part, everyone was busy preparing themselves for the inevitable attack. Watch towers were built and trenches were dug. Riflemen and sentries were strategically spread out over the perimeter, with some of them even placed near the edges of the Horde camp.

He didn't see his brother again that night, and Felrus wasn't sure if that was an entirely bad thing. Each day, he could feel the symptoms getting... Not quite worse, but they were spreading. Now that white hair was growing on other parts of his body, not just his shoulder and arm. And he was certain his eyebrows were also starting to shift a shade of white.

The leftovers of his medicine were dry now, and he was starting to have... Dreams. Very strange dreams.

In those dreams, Felrus was in a beautiful verdant grove unlike any he had ever seen before. Clear grass, tall trees and small lakes surrounded him, but with such a purity to them, it couldn't be anything belonging to the world he had come from. It was as if that place was... Devoid of any kind of taint. He felt at peace just being in that place.

But then, that peace began to be replaced by something else. Like a primal, bestial instinct. The desire to chase, to find something alive... And to tear it to pieces with his bare hands and teeth.

Each time, he'd just lay down on the ground, clutching at his own body, doing everything he could to suppress those savage impulses... But each time, it felt more difficult. Like, little by little... The beast threatened to consume him.

 _'It's just a dream.'_ He'd tell himself. _'That place is not real. It's just a bloody dream. You have a mission to fulfill. Focus.'_

At times like these, when he stood watch atop the stone tower overlooking the ridge and both base camps, it was easier. He could concentrate on nothing but the task given to him; to keep everyone safe. To do his part in this war. _'Keep your mind on the task at hand, Felrus. You're stranger than this. You are a man... A human. That's who you are. And nothing else.'_

He felt the scar on his face throb, and that brought a smile to his lips. He brought his hand up towards it, the cold metal of his gauntlet caressing the burnt skin. _'That's right... This here is proof. This pain is proof that I am still me... That I am alive, thanks to him. And that I will always do everything I can to keep him and everyone else safe.'_

He felt tinge in his heart when he thought about Dalrus. He felt terrible for berating his brother like that, and even worse for lying to him. Despite what he had said, it was undeniable that Dalrus was in fact still very young and immature. He could tell his brother was restless, eager to help to this part. It was his way of dealing with that tension that was steadily building up. He had never been the kind of person to remain still with so much going on.

 _'At the very least...'_ Felrus though with a deep, internal sigh. _'I have to make sure he makes it back. He wasn't ready for any of this... It's not right for him to get dragged into this mess.'_

Truth be told, however, Dalrus had more than proved himself since. If it weren't for him... Felrus couldn't even imagine how things would be right now. To think his little brother would be able to help bring the orcs and the humans together like that... Along with all the other races allied with the factions. That could be a historic turning point for everyone, the end of a long, tiresome war.

 _'I guess he's grown, huh? No longer that immature, spoiled boy eager to shirk his duties...'_ Looking back on all those times his brother would sneak away from his lessons, go to the city or try to run from his master, it was hard to imagine he'd grow into someone so eager to do his part for his beliefs. Felrus wanted nothing more than help protect the world his little brother lived in; one where the greatest worry of his life was how to escape his next dull lesson, and not to fight for his life against monstrosities from other worlds. _'Such a grim fate we have... To fight for our survival like this. I hope one day, we can find true peace... Or, at the very least, leave a peaceful world for our descendants.'_

His thoughts were interrupted by the Horde's warm drums. The moon was high in the sky at that time, but finally, it looked like Thrall was about to engage Hellscream's forces in battle. It was very hard to see it in the dark, but Felrus could make things out just fine... One of the upsides from the changes going on with him. He saw the orc raise his mystical hammer high in the air, then scream at his troops: "LOK'THAR OGAR!" Mimicking his words, the Horde warriors charged forward with their leader.

Hellscream's base occupied the entire northern half of that ridge; he had quite a long time to establish himself, not to mention all the additional troops he had gained from his demonic masters. This would be a harsh battle indeed... Even Felrus was reluctant to be the first one to advance. Still, if the decision to send troops from both factions had atually been made... He'd not hesitate to step forward. After all... That's what it meant to be a soldier at this time. To fight... And to die for what he believed in.

 _'At least...'_ He thought to himself. _'This time, I know Dalrus is not getting himself in any trouble.'_

As Thrall advanced through the ridge and approached the base of the chain of hills and mountains where the first defensive structures built by the Warsong lay - with enormous red-skinned orcs with their burning eyes roaring and waving their weapons in defiance to the attackers from the Horde. They stopped just beyound arrow-shooting distance from their enemies, and Thrall stepped forward, his magically amplified voice carrying over the entire mountain range; "GROM! CEASE THIS MADNESS, AND COME WITH ME!"

A single grunt, completely devoid of any armor above his waist - thus showing off his abnormally muscular build under the skin red as blood - stepped through the front gates of their base and wave his axe towards Thrall, his shout only loud enough that the Horde's troops could hear it; "You are the humans' lapdog! We serve only the Legion now!"

After that, several more of the chaos orcs began to shout their challenges from their base. "Human's lapdog! Traitor of his kind! Weak greenskin! Disgrace of the horde! You are not worthy of being the warchief!"

His head slumped over, and Thrall turned back to return to his troops. Cairne Bloodhoof met him there. "We knew it would come to this, young warchief. There is no choice but to fight."

"I know, Cairne... I wish there was another way... Other than to spill the blood of my own people like this." Squeezing his hammer tightly, Thrall lifted his head. "But I will not waver now." Raising his weapon once more, he addressed his troops. "Warriors! Do not avert your gaze! This is the terrible price for selling your souls to the Legion! Today, we fight against this dark destiny! Today, we fight for our freedom! Freedom from these horrific shackles that have bound us for so long! Today, we fight for our destiny! LOK'TAR!"

With that rallying warcry echoing among their ranks, the horde advanced, running over the battlefield as the chaos orcs began to shower the attackers with arrows and spears.

And as this battle began, Dalrus, who had been calmly laying on his back over one of the orcish catapults that were carried all the way up there, couldn't help but think: _'Oh boy... I sure got in trouble this time.'_


End file.
